Finding therapy in an age-old tradition.

"You crochet?" I was recently asked. I'm sure the smirk on the girlfriend's face wasn't meant to hurt, but, rather, invite my explanation as to why I do it and how I've turned this traditionally Grandmother-esque hobby into a potentially cool one.

You see, approximately a year and a half ago our family's life took an odd turn. While our oldest son fell head-first into his teenage years, his typical angst took an ugly side-street and terrible personality traits reared their ugly head(s). Using my own inner faith to calm me, I prayed that God would give me something to take my mind off the day-to-day bumps in the road. I'd hoped it would be to rechannel my writing and focus more on that novel that's been on the tip of my fingers for years. Or, perhaps, I didn't feel it was too much to ask to have a lovely singing voice and the ability to share it with others. Neither happened. But, that's the funny thing about getting what you need; not always what you want.

If you've read any of my earlier posts (there are soooo many), then you have an understanding of how I came to crochet, but what I haven't shared until now is why. Although to respect the privacy of my son and our family, I won't go into the details, but I will say that when I picked up crocheting, I wanted to put it down immediately. I was bored. This was just another boring, albeit cheap, hobby that I didn't see concluding productively. But, as I've explained before, I just couldn't put it down, and after some patience with myself, I've found that I'm a natural at it!

Don't get me wrong, my first love will always be writing, and from time-to-time, I will sing in the shower, laundry room, and when I'm alone in the car. Until then, I will continue to hone my crocheting skills and continue to create whatever I'm meant to create!