It is 11:17 and I just got on the computer to post on facebook that I’m hoping to knit at the coffee shop tomorrow and would anyone like to join me.

I was working on my sweater this evening, after the party, and am getting close to finishing the second sleeve. It will be exciting to start the body. Soon I’ll need to take measurements and plan for shaping. And I need to find out if there are special techniques for weaving in ends of colorwork, because it seems awfully messy.

The party was one of three graduation parties. Mark’s school’s graduation was this weekend — starting with baccalaureate yesterday morning, then convocation, then the final ball, then the graduation this morning, then two other parties that he went to by himself. Then he stopped by at home and we went with him to this one. Amy was excited, and told the student she loves graduation. She ate a ton of food, even after a small dinner at home.

At first she and I went to sit in the garden, but then the father was walking around fogging for mosquitoes, and the fog was moving toward us, so we went inside the unfinished in-law addition where some tables and chairs were set up. We sat across from a couple we didn’t know, and introduced ourselves. Later, Mark found us. We got talking about kids (they have a three-year-old, too, plus two older kids), school, homeschooling, and church, and really seemed to have a lot of common ground. Even exchanged phone numbers, websites, and emails.

Amy later took her plate back to the garden and sat on a rock by the fountain listening to a group of people talking.

She’s asleep, now; wearing training undies instead of a diaper, for the third night so far. I had begun to suspect that the diapers were getting wet in the mornings when she would wake before me. She is reluctant to wake us up for anything… directly, anyway. Sometimes she makes enough noise that I bet she’s wanting to wake us up, but she won’t come in and call for us or shake us. She’s also switched to napping in regular undies, but I’m not sure if she’s actually slept any of the three days so far.

And while I was online anyway, I read through my facebook stuff, and the other blogs I read, and a few other sites I keep up with, and my email.

One of my blog friends was writing about love, and about whether not being able to say “yes” when a friend proclaims best friend status and asks if you feel likewise, or whether not missing your kids when they’re gone for an hour, means you don’t really love the friend or the kids.

Love is more than the sum of actions and words — it’s not just a matter of doing and saying the right things. It’s also not just a matter of having certain particular feelings, fuzzy or otherwise. It’s not enough to be sentimental, and it’s not enough to be committed. Is love just the combination of the fuzzy affections and the committed deeds — or does it go beyond those bounds, too?

I have often needed to remind myself, or be reminded, that love doesn’t have to be perfect and complete to be real. That means I need to accept halting, limited, inadequate efforts of love from other people — when they’re reasonably sincere and not manipulative or deceitful. Likewise, I can call my own halting, limited, and inadequate efforts “love” even though they don’t live up to my ideal. I can say “I love you” to my friend, my husband, my daughter, my God, even though there’s great big gaping holes in my love for them. And I can also confess to them that I don’t love them as well as I would like to, and that I would like to keep learning to love them better and more.

It is 11:38, and the cat sits semi-patiently at my feet, closed-mouth meowing whenever I shift positions, to remind me that she wants her dinner, and I hear soft snoring from Mark’s direction, and I think about watering the garden in the morning, finishing the dishes I didn’t finish before the party, maybe making pancakes, and maybe finally planting the herbs and the zucchini, and getting back the crib we loaned to friends who are moving on Tuesday (sad), and oh, I need to get out the meat for hamburgers tomorrow night, and now that the Yellow River Festival is done, I really need to get to work on my friend’s bridesmaid’s dress (the side seams have been ripped and now I need to pin, mark, and sew).

It is 11:43. Good night!


4 thoughts on “11:17

  1. Hi Marcy,
    How do you ever sleep when your thoughts are this busy at 11:30 PM. My racing mind often keeps sleep from me.
    Seems like Amy’s coming along. Good!
    Thinking of you.

  2. I feel the same – love does not have to be perfect to be valuable. And I know this is random and silly, but every time I read about you knitting something, I think of the time in a middle school home ec class when I was using a sewing machine and sewed the garmnet I was making to the sleeve of my shirt and couldn’t figure out how to free myself. When the teacher left the room, some other students helped my struggle out of my shirt so we could fix the problem before she came back. Like I said – random and silly, but it’s what I think about when I read of your creations. 🙂

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