Guilty pleasures

Recently, I learnt to crochet, and by ‘learning’ I really mean that I know three basic stitches that enable me to create a passable ‘granny square’. I’ve come into contact with a lady who had an idea which has grown into a group of women, and one man, who get together to create blankets for those who are currently homeless or marginalised in some way.

I can do that, I thought. When I’m sitting around at night, procrastinating about writing my book, or folding the washing, I can crochet and do something good for others.

Easy, right? Mmmm, not so much.

So I sit in my warm house, next to the fire, a glass of wine or coffee at my elbow, either the tv or music quietly going in the background, chatting to any one of my family who might be in the room at the time and the irony is not lost on me.

I am sitting in luxury compared to those who I am crocheting for. I found it much easier to enjoy my wine, the fire and my home before I started crocheting. Now, I sit there, sometimes on the verge of tears, knowing that others, right in my city, are sitting under a bridge with a piece of cardboard for warmth, or huddled in an alley, their meagre possessions clutched tightly for fear of being stolen.

Now, I know that me selling everything just because others have less is not actually going to help them. I know that crocheting a blanket will eventually do some good. I know that writing articles and speaking to groups about Destiny Rescue has an impact and is needed. I know that giving when we see need makes a difference.

But sometimes, it just doesn’t seem enough, and I am overcome with sadness, guilt, sorrow.

I know all the trite answers. Sometimes, increasingly more often, they just don’t cut it. And I want to scream at the sheer unfairness of life.

When we talk about being content with what we have, we usually mean how little we have.

The opposite is true too.

Learning to be content with how much we have, how much has been gifted to us, is a hard lesson too.

And I am nowhere near mastering it.

 

7 thoughts on “Guilty pleasures

  1. I love that you allow yourself to feel these difficult emotions. It would be easier to put the crochet hook down and block out the feeling with the usual distractions. May your squares and your attitude of compassion continue to bring warmth to others.

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    • Thanks, Fiona, I hadn’t thought about it like that…I guess it’s too strong to ignore, even if I wanted to. What it does do is make me crochet faster to get more done πŸ™‚ Thanks for reading and commenting…it’s nice to ‘see’ you here x

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  2. Take two here – I really must remember my wordpress password! I think you take on more than your share of the weight of the world, Susannah. Which doesn’t help you with your dilemma. But it does help those who are touched by your generosity.

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  3. I’m a runner, which means until recently, I’ve found ways to distance myself from others’ misfortune and justify my abundance. But then I went through some misfortune of my own and wished someone would show up with a blanket or a cup of soup or a few minutes to listen. Because of that, I don’t run as easily as I used to, and I really don’t want to anymore.

    I’m with Fiona – I’m one of those who have been touched by the generosity of your words and encouragement, Susannah. I admire that you show up and feel for others. Happy we’re connected by blogs. πŸ™‚ Love ~

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    • Glad to hear the temptation to run is not as strong as it used to be. From my point of view, you are someone who is willing to look at a problem squarely in the eye and sort it out. So, even if you don’t feel like it, you’ve obviously made heaps of progress!
      For all the evils of the internet etc, it sure has brought some wonderful people into my life. I feel privileged to be able to share in your life, and have you in mine. You inspire me and show me who God is with every encounter we have xo

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