A Beautiful Piece

So I've started knitting.

Now now, before you say anything, no, I'm not turning into an old woman. I am simply making use of time, as well being cost effect whilst adding a personal touch. I am simply knitting scarves for all my beloved as Christmas presents. Now, it's brave of me to even say that I am, lest I do not reach the desired outcome. But if one of my beloved were to receive a rather oddly knitted scarf, I say it is better than none at all.

Anyway, I was thinking back to my prime time years where school teachers encouraged kids to learn as much as possible. Having learnt how to read and play the violin, sing and dance, it was time for knitting. May I add I can still read, sing and dance, (I hope!?) as for the violin, well that's another matter, as for knitting, it is a Grandmother of attempts. My acquired friend the guitar stares at me from the corner it was banished to, un-tuned and un-played for quite some time...but that's another story.

So I'm trying to knit this scarf. I start of really well. I try a couple of basic stitches and it looks alright, I'm proud of myself if I must say so myself. But then I decide to try something little more complicated. If you can do the two-step, why not try the waltz? I decide to come out of my comfort zone and try some rather tricky new found patterns.

Knitting needles. Check. Wool. Check. Fingers and thumb. Check.

Courtesy of YouTube, I try this new complicated knitting pattern. Brows furrowed, toes curled in frustration, I continue.

''Frustration?'' some may say.

Yes.

Frustrated because this new idea of venturing forth into something new doesn't quite seem to be working out. I look at the work I have completed so far.

A hot mess. A big old hot mess of jumbled up wool trying to tell a story, but not quite even beginning. So frustrated am I, I grit my jaw and undo the the stitches and begin again.

Exasperated I am.

''Exasperated?'' some may echo.

Yes.

Exasperated, because after a second attempt, the wool pattern is still a big mess.... Again! A jumbled up mish mash of incoherent woolly nonsense. I sigh, as I pull out the wool and attempt again. Needles to the wool, I try that new complicated pattern...again....

And again....

And again.

A few rows in, and again, a complete shambles. I throw the sorry attempt across the room and frown. I invite you to enter into that place where I am in, a place where your attempts prove dismal, so much so, that frustration and exasperation can only follow. An attempt where failure and wrong are so well familiar, that you can only succeed and do right by giving in.

"What am I doing wrong?'' I ask.

Browsing Google sites for help, I come across a phrase that catches my eye. The phrase says:

''When you start to knit, it may seem like the pattern you are producing makes no sense, it may even come across as a mess. Continue. You will only see the desired pattern when you continue to knit further more''.

Bling!

Light bulb experience!

[cue deep throaty voice over: camera pans, soft focus, resting on intense deeply staring eyes]

Voice over: 'Lightning sounds and the air was still''...

Ok - slight exaggeration. But the light bulb did turn on...

So here's the thing...I had quit trying too early!! I had seen the 'mess' of my attempt and concluded that what would follow would be a mess, and so I gave up. I continued to read the phrase.

''Once you begin to knit more and more, you will see a pattern emerge, and what seemed to be a big mess, becomes a beautiful piece of art.''

So my mess of an attempt had actually been the attempt of something beautiful? It had only been what my minds eye could so far see? My minds eye and the whole picture sure do contradict themselves. (Comment if you agree on this one at least.)

I peer at the ball and wool I had thrown across the room. Picking it up, and looking at it somewhat apprehensive, I resume to knit.

And knit..

And knit. I stop for a break, take a look at the piece. In my hand was a beautiful knitted piece of wool!

''So whats the point of your story old lady''?

''Ahem. Excuse me?''

"Sorry...young lady...''

'Right..thank you.''

Basically...you may start off at something, and it seems like you are making a mess of your good intentions and frugal efforts. You may mess up, you may give give up. Persevere, see it through, because that which seems like a mess at first, will only be completed through your perseverance to reveal... a beautiful picture!

It is so easy to see the complications of a matter....but time taken to reflect, reveals the God given understanding.

''Huh? I don't get it.''

Ok...Just like the ball of wool taken by knitting needles were purposed for an end that was exquisite at the hands of one that knew exactly what to do......so were you made to assume the desired end of one that has your finished piece in mind.

''Ah-haa...I see...''

So, what are you aiming for? Do your attempts seem frugal? Do you question your own attempts? Continue to aim, the end picture is better than what the picture you see tells you.

Seeking direction? Continue to seek, though it may seem like there is not much you see, perseverance will prove that the finished picture is better than when you first began.

''What's the moral to your story then...ahem...young... lady''?

''Lol! The end is simply...a beautiful piece''.

She Who Was Imperfect

her smile was sweet and serene

yet on the corner of her mouth was a forgotten breadcrumb

her eyes were full of life, her make up accentuated them

yet her mascara ran and left dark circles under her eyes

her attire was one that was sharp and pristine

yet on her feet her shoes were scuffed and beaten

her skin was smooth and glowed

yet in the middle of her forehead was a pimple

her fingernails were grown to perfection

but the paint on them were chipped and worn

her hair was blow dryed to perfection

yet the split ends were unmistakable

she walked with confidence and assurance

yet her knees knocked into one another

she spoke with authority and boldness

yet her words were at times were unclear

she often strove for perfection

yet in all her efforts, she was imperfect

I Think, Therefore I Am. Surely?

She takes a tentative step forward. Her movements are slow calculated, yet offensive and so mistaken.

She slips and falls amidst the tiny minuscules of a thousand yellow grains like quick sand beneath her feet, she nurses a swollen knee.

Beyond her footsteps, there lies a vast desert. Beyond, pools of ice cool water. A desperate need.

''I am in the Sahara, dry and dead. But there.'' She points ahead, whispering softly ''There is an oasis. An o-a-s-i-s'' she sings.

He nods.

''And now, what else?'' He prompts.

She leans forward, head in her hands.

''I am amongst the yellow sand dunes, and I can see...a...movement, a movement in the distance.''

''And what is happening in the distance?'' He asks.

She rocks back and forth, head on hands and whimpers.

''I can see,'' she falters. ''I- I can see...many hands...many feet, marching, coming towards me.''

She stops speaking in obvious distress.

''what else can you see now?"' he asks.

She pauses. Takes a breath. Seems to think.

'I can not only just see, but I can hear!'' She cries out.

'What can you hear?'' He leans forward.

''I can... I can hear sounds.''

He waits for a moment, speaking no words.

''Off course.'' His answer is wry. ''And what 'sounds' can you hear?"

She smiles, head in her lap, she laughs, clapping gleefully.

''I can hear them, and see them, I can see and hear, both at the same time!''.

''What do you see and hear both at the same time?'' He questions.

''Them..." She whispers. ''The army. They are loud and strong, fast in approach. They tell me I am the queen of Sheba. They are covered in the colours of the rainbow.''

She bites her finger nails, spitting each one out with pride.

He frowns as he smooths down his hair, wiping away her sharp, wet, stray fingernail from his chin. ''They say?'' he continues.

''They say I am the next in line to reign to seat upon the golden throne. They are happy. They fall at my feet. They had been seeking after me for a long long time''.

She smiles, seemingly content and assured of her answer she sits upright in a regal posture.

Her eyes are glazed, and she seems catatonic. There is not much that can be done. He steps out of the room, and closes the door behind him.

Behind the glass screen he stares at her, she is seated in a cold and lonely room, with grey walls, one table and two chair seated beyond a glass screen.

''What's your verdict?'' His partner asks.

He pats his colleague on the shoulder and leans forward.

''Keep way way way clear of drugs''. He replies. ''Keep well, well away.''

Through His Eyes

He heated a stone up on the fire and placed it in her hands.

'Ow, ooh, wee!'' she cried as she dropped the stone immediately.

''That was red'' he said.

He soothed her hands in ice cold water as she felt the soothing embrace.

''This is blue'' he said.

She played around with cotton wool, soft to the touch.

''This is white'' he said.

He dug his hands in the earth of a pot plant and sprinkled it into her hands.

''This is brown''.

He picked up a daffodil and tickled her face with the flower.

''This is yellow''.

He took her hand and placed it into soft gooey endless tar.

''This is black''.

He took her out onto the marsh, as she ran her fingers in the grass and took in a deep breath.

''This is green''.

He placed her hands over the subtle warmth of a radiator.

''This is orange''.

He placed her hand on his heart as she felt his heart beating.

''This is my love for you''.

She picked up her cane and put his hand on her heart. Though she was blind, she knew that she would always be able to see through His eyes.

Which Way The Wind Blows

It was a first day like other. No way did she expect to have to encounter such adverse situations.

She placed her hand on her head and realised that her beloved had left her. The winds had been predicted, and caution had been given. She had even spoken a word, to at least abort the operation. Settle for something a little safer. She turned to and fro in search for the one that had been a trusted friend. Even her umbrella had deserted her. Two for the price of one.

The wind blew, and the marsh swayed to and fro. The musical ensemble of the whistling wind that entertained the grass did not do much for her own comfort. Up on the highlands of a Scottish marsh filled land, she was regretful.

She stared ahead and saw those around her getting ready. Some even ran to find her lost beloved. She was promptly dragged back to her position. They searched high and low, battered and bruised by the fierce wind. Still nothing. Why had they chosen this for her on her first day??

''In 5,'' a voice called out.

She was on borrowed time. She looked around but could find nothing.

Her debut. It would be a shambles. She contemplated running away and hiding amongst the marsh that undoubtedly held her sweet beloved.

''Somewhere, out there, beyond the clear blue skies'' she found herself singing in hope as she wiped the running mascara from her eyes.

''Please.'' She was ushered along to her spot and silenced by a finger to the lip.

She grinned and grimaced. Turned left and right in hope, but still no joy. Her mother had already told her not to do it. ''This new job of yours,'' her mother had said as she simply shook her head at her daughter.

''In 5, 4, 3," the one in charge spoke. She trembled in fear at the thought of what was to be endured.

From the corner of her eye, she saw feet running, arms flailing, and then she felt a pat on her head and something pushed into her hand. Her beloved had been found, and not so strategically placed upon her head, as well as an added extra.

''...2. 1''. The voice readied her into action.

She smiled, took a deep breath and spoke. With her hand on her newly found wig, she broke into a smile, as she held the borrowed umbrella over her head.

''Good morning and welcome, join me for a turbulent morning on the 6am Weather Forecast News''.

Blind Judgement

Anna walked along the street, her cane tip tapping in front of her. She walked like an expert, despite the disadvantages. She had opted for a guide dog, but had eventually settled for her own comforts.

Adrian sat not far away, watching her. He had been watching her for a while. He saw Anna fall into a bin, side step into incoming traffic, escaping the danger with the help of others and her cane, and now here she was walking down the street after a moment of shopping for groceries.

He squinted at the sun in his eye, and put on the shades that he pulled out of his jacket pocket.

Anna tip tapped along until she disappeared from view.

Everyone loved Anna, none had a bad word to speak against her. Was it because of her 'less than norm' situation, Adrian wasn't sure.

Anna and Adrian were friends, knowing each other from way back when. Anna had always been the one to make him laugh and forget about his troubles. When Anna had lost her sight in a car accident, Adrian had been there for her. Even after Anna had taken a bad fall at the local grocery store, he had helped her up, and called for an ambulance to take her to the hospital to assess the situation.

But lately, there had been something going on with Anna. Adrian noticed that there was a change in her. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was a definite notable change.

The little worm niggling at Adrian's brain had began ever since a mutual friend Matt had visited Anna to say hello. Matt had broken his arm in a football game, and his right hand was bandaged up, set up for recuperation. Visitors that were with Anna at the time had extended their right hand, as was the norm, to shake when meeting and greeting. Adrian noticed though, that when Matt extended his left hand to shake since his right arm was bandaged and out of action, everyone responded appropriately.

Everyone including Anna.

Back at home, Adrian couldn't shake off the feeling. There was just something. He sat at the table and opened the daily paper.

The headlines told of the rise in those receiving disability benefits. The paper reported that there were more than less of those 'less capable', ready to receive as much as they could get from government hand outs through fraudulent measures. He was aware that many that received the benefits would rather keep on receiving it even if granted an opportunity to be free from it.

The next day Adrian was out and about at the local market, and he saw a familiar figure. She had on the same glasses and she held the same cane.

It was Anna.

Adrian was surprised when one market seller asked Anna what she wanted, and Anna quickly pointed to the best oranges, bananas, and mangoes. Adrian continued to muse. He thought back to his encounters with Anna and tried to piece things together. Finally it clicked.

Adrian invited Anna out with him one day for a light lunch. As Anna waited for him, Adrian hid and watched her waiting in a nearby park. Painters nearby were redecorating, signs of wet paint were appropriately situated all around to avoid any mishaps.

Adrian walked up to Anna and shook her hand. He moved her over to the wet paint area where there was a freshly painted bench with a visible sign that said 'Wet Paint'. Adrian made a move to sit down, and as he pulled Anna with him, she jumped up and cried:

'No! The sign says 'Wet paint!!''.



_______________________________

''How did you know?'' Anna asked Adrian. ''How did you know I wasn't really blind?''

''It was the night Matt walked in with a broken right arm.'' Adrian replied. ''We all extended our left hand. Naturally, it would have been a right hand extension shake, but it niggled me that you also extended your left hand, when there was no possible way for you to know that his right arm was not in use.''

Anna smiled at Adrian.

''Not only that'' he continued, ''but how could you possibly know which the best oranges and mangoes were without having seeing them?''

Anna took of her glasses, her eyes looked directly at him.

''Don't forget the fall at the grocery store'' She smiled. ''That was a God send. I was blind at one point, but heavy falls can be known to trigger the onset of gaining back lost sight. As 'one in a million chance' that may be to ever happen, it happened to me. I decided to make the best of my situation.''

''No more benefits for you then.'' Adrian was grim. ''You claimed thousands that you were not entitled to Anna''.

''You should become a Detective.'' Anna smirked. ''You're good,'' she smiled as she was lead away.

''You're very good.''

_______________________

Fraud - don't do it!

The Face That Stared

Laura stared out of the window, but she couldn't see him. Well she wasn't actually sure whether it was a 'him' or a 'her', but it was definitely a face.

A face that would stare out of that window, watching the world go by. Always on time, or more so always staring no matter the time.

That face seemed to hold sadness, yet at times there would seem to be a glimmer of hope.

Sarah would wake in the morning, and whilst cleaning up the front room her eyes would roam and gaze out of the window.

There was that face, staring, just simply staring.

Sarah would go to close the curtain as the sun came down and there, that face simply staring.

The sound of police cars, ambulances racing to get to a particular place at a particular time. It was common. Sarah released the curtain, turned the TV up to drown out the noise. Bad neighborhood, cheap rent, face the consequences.

In the morning, again, she would look out of the window long enough to see if the face was there. There it was. Eyes meeting with each other, there seemed to be no glimmer of life in the eyes that stared back. It was definitely a girl, her hair caught around her face gave it away.

So accustomed was Sarah to peeking out of her window, so frequent did she see the blank staring face.

Sarah heard sirens one day, yet again was the norm, but a little closer to home this time.

She looked out of the window, saw ambulance and police surrounding that house. A stretcher carrying a body. She picked up the paper the next morning to read that a young girl had been in imprisonment in her house by her parents, fed practically nothing for at least a year. The life had simply left the young girl as she gave up the will to live, subjected to a lifetime of horror and abuse at the hands of her parents.

Passing by a neighbour one day, Sarah said ''Do you know what happened over there, that house with all the police?'' The neighbour replied.

Didn't you read the paper? It was the girl that was known for 'staring out of the window' ''.

Sarah searched the net and got an article up in front of her.

'That young girl was known to many as 'the girl that simply stared'. A face that cried out for help, but her silent cries went unnoticed. May her soul rest in peace''. The article read.

Sarah sat on her couch and cried. She cried the for the face that she knew so well, the image of her imprinted in her mind, but was unknowing to do much to help. A face she would never see again.

For It Was

For it was the early morning starts to a dead end job with minimum pay

The endless calls for 'dinner is ready!''

The kids expected a divine roast with all the trimmings to add

Instead they met with the same disappointment of a little less than

It was the endless walk from the job to the bus stop

The need to buy better shoes to endure the walk

But having not enough to meet the need

For it was the annoyance of being sprayed with dirty street water by a passing car

Patiently waiting for the little man to turn green for the road to be crossed

It was the letters through the post, reminders of endless debts to pay

It was the sheer audacity to rise up against the game of the system

For it was the need for a better tomorrow to overcome the lesser yesterday

It was the empty stares through a clear glass window

At the skies that held so much

It was the need to be like so many on the big screen

That lead to the fall to realise the rise was in being yourself

It was the mistakes of yesterday that highlighted the promises of tomorrow

It was the lack of Him that accentuated the need for Him

It was the constant question of ''why?''

That lead to the answer ''because''

It was the questioning of ''what is'' that answered ''I Am''

It was the need for a better tomorrow that lead

To finding early morning starts for a good reason

The dinner call to be had around the table with a sumptuous supply

The empathy at seeing another sprayed with dirty rain water

The letters through the post littered with postcards and good news

The encounter with self belief against status quo

The embrace of the past to help shape a better tomorrow

The acceptance of being true to oneself

For it was the acceptance of simply being

Human


---------------------

Some want more than others, some have less than. Some have what is not needed, and some give away the essentials. Some have bruises all over after taking a beating, and some preen and prance being in a totally perfect place.

But no matter the place, no matter the journey, no matter the mistake and no matter the heartbreak, we are, simply human. Living in a world that is very human, but we are not to be a part of the statistic.

Stand up, even if your limping, the ground is now beneath you and not under you. Need crutches? At least you sought some help and support.

Sprinting? You are way ahead, keep running, but don't forget to lend a hand. Either way, if your eye is on the Sparrow, the ''Why?'' and ''Because'' and ''What is?'' and ''I Am'' then makes a little more sense.

Birds of A Feather

One was exultant, the other ecstatic

One was triumphant, the other was successful

One was humorous, the other, comical

One was bouyant, the other was insouciant

One was disheartened, the other dismayed

One was despondent, the other, dejected

One was negative, the other was cynical

One was cantankerous, the other, hostile

A sound.

Flapping of wings, off into the sky.

Birds of a feather flocking together.

As Midnight Passes

Indeed it is, that as midnight passes, moonlight makes her appearance

The decadence of yesterday no longer has a hold on tomorrow

Indeed it is, that as midnight passes, the stars shine in the twilight, a chorus in harmony

The constellations cannot withhold its joy at the promises of what lies beyond

Indeed it is, that as midnight passes, the wind softly passes

The universe echoes as the sound of its voice reverberates and meet with the maker

Indeed it is, that as midnight passes, the leaves on the trees sway to the gentle breeze

Couples croon on the beach under the warm moonlight

Indeed, it is as midnight passes,

A small child huddles under the warmth of her mothers arms

Indeed it is as midnight passes, tomorrow prepares for another day

The X Factor

She walked on to the stage and the held the mic tight until her knuckles began to turn white.

She stared out at the judges that looked and smiled. They were expectant, they wanted a return.

She took in the crowd, the lights, and stood still ready to give her very best.

Upon being prompted by the judges to begin, she began to sing. She opened her mouth and the words seemed to escape her, she coughed, and whispered, stopped and stared back bleary eyed, and confused.

Concerned looks from the judges, she got a second chance. She tried again. Attempted the first note. The peanuts that she was advised not to eat but ate anyhow somehow made its way up as she coughed and spluttered, full blown tears running down her face.

''I'm sorry'' she mouthed into the mic. ''The peanut,'' she gasped. ''It's stuck.''

''Unfortunately, there seems to be a problem.'' The judges echoed each other.

''Sorry'' she said again frantic, waving her hair out of her eyes. ''I just broke up with my boyfriend, I suffer from acute panic attacks, I just lost an earring and my wig wont stay on straight.''

There was silence as the judges looked at each other.

''And don't forget the peanut'' she pointed to her throat, coughing slightly, eyes streaming.

She was dressed for the part, ripped jeans, army jacket, high heeled boots.

''She looks the part at least'' one judge said. ''That's all that matters right?''

She looked to them, clutching on to her mic, waiting for the verdict. If she had the courage she would have run of stage right away, but her heels were too tight and her blisters cried back at her. She stood, shaking, crying, make up streaming and hair a mess.

A pause, and a deliberation.

''It's a yes from me'' one judge said.

''Its a yes from me too'' the other replied

''I think you have something, its a yes from me too''.

In disbelief she stared back, she flung herself on to the stage and wailed until she had to be carried off stage. She manged a ''thank you'' before she was lead away.

''Do you think we made the right decision?'' one judge asked the others? ''she seemed a little fragile no?''

''Makes for perfect TV'' The others grinned. ''Forget about the more talented, it's not about that anyway.''

''So you made it through,'' the host hugged her as she stood back stage. ''What advise would you give to others?''

She took a deep breath, thought long and hard, then replied ''Don't sing, cry like you just lost your mama and pretend your life is ending''.

''Great advice'' the host cried.

''Welcome to The X Factor!!''

Beautiful Beyond Description

She picked up the mirror and stared at her reflection.

Cold icy blue eyes stared back at her.

''Don't stare too long at anyone,'' her brother once jeered ''you might kill somebody.''

Her eyes smirked as they observed the scar below her chin, and the one above her eye.

''I love you'' her boyfriend had cried as he cradled her in his arms after smashing a glass into her face.

Her inner eye screamed at the scars that lay deep within.

Her oddly shaped lips were twisted and her facial demenour was one of that who saw another as repulsive.

''You are so ugly!'' her school friends taunted. ''So tall and lanky, and those braces!Buck teeth! Buck teeth!'' they cried. She hid her smile under tight lips.

Her cheek bones were too high, and her hair only accentuated it. She ran her hands over her short cropped hair.

''I am ugly, ugly, ugly!'' she cried.

She threw down the mirror and struggled to pull on her jeans to fit over her mishapen legs. and top and ventured out to fulfill her weekly desire.

She would hand out food to the homeless, speak to the less privileged and offer comfort to those hurting.

She was always aware that others would stare at her as she walked the streets. She hid her face under her hood and covered her lips with her hand. Her tall legs were bandy as they knocked into each other as she walked.

''Excuse me miss.'' She felt a tap on her shoulder.

A man smiled as he stared at her face. She was exquisite in her appearance. Her eyes. They were a soft warm blue, emulating a desire to be understood as they stared back at him, wide in all their innocence.

''I've been watching you for a while, and I think you are incredible.''

Her face was a small strawberry shape, nothing special, but the insouciance that she portrayed was undeniable.

''Your blue eyes hold so much warmth, and that scar under your chin helps me to recognise you.''

The man held onto his bottle and swayed. His dirt caked hands touched her cheek.

''Your heart and desire for those less fortunate is what makes you,'' he stammered.

''Beautiful.''

Back at home, she stared back and saw the image of who she was truly meant to be.

____________________________________

''You are beautiful beyond description
Too marvelous for words
Too wonderful for comprehension
Like nothing ever seen or heard.''

Singing songs in praise to Him, we who are made in His image, exalting His name for the wonder that He is, and all that He has created.

Yet when we look at our reflections we discredit Him by making judgment at the one whom he created, because we see our selves through the eyes of somebody else.

Made in the image of the One you were made in the image of.

See Him in your reflection.

You are blessed, you are accepted, you are beautiful.

It Was Love

It was Love that gave up that which was known to be in the face of such adversity

It was Love that carried the burden even when it sought to pull downwards

It was Love that threw dust in the face of that which sought to bring it down

It was Love from who's forehead drops of blood poured out

It was Love that whispered 'silence' when all hell should have broken loose

And it was Love that showed righteous indignation in the face of hell breaking loose

It was Love that denied His own will, and gave to a higher purpose

It was Love that gave up that which was known to be in the face of such adversity

It was Love that wept for you and I

It was Love that sent His son to die