Something New

Sunday afternoon I tried something new. I pulled out a “learn to knit” book given to me by my in-laws for Christmas. I sat down on the couch, ball of yarn and two knitting needles in hand, and I dove in.

“I'll never get this!” ran through my head as I tried to get started. The instructions and accompanying illustrations seemed to make little sense, and my coordination, or lack thereof, caused problems for even the things I could understand. Suddenly, though, it clicked. I successfully made one stitch. Then another. Then a third. Before I knew it, I had a nice row of cast-on stitches.

They weren't exactly even, so Monday afternoon I pulled them off the needle and tried again. My stitches improved, so I tried one more time. Finally, I deemed the row of cast-on stitches adequate for lesson two: the basic knit stitch.

I followed the directions with amazement. That was it? No crazy twists and turns? No contortions or perfect tongue position? It seemed too simple, even easier than the cast-on stitch. Again, I had to figure out the coordination of it and get into a groove, but before I knew it I had a row. Then another one.

My daughters have just recently learned to crochet, and I told them that if I could learn to knit I would teach them. After showing my new skill to my husband, I stitched another row while my oldest looked on.

“Really?” she exclaimed. “Is it really as easy as it looks?” She was excited, convinced that she could learn how to knit, too, so yesterday I taught her how to cast on and get started with the knit stitch. My willingness to try something new motivated my daughter as well, and together we are working through the kinks and frustrations.

I have never liked new things. I prefer my comfort zone. I am no bold adventurer; I tend to choose the familiar over the new if I have a choice. If the choice is not mine, then I can handle the new because the initial step does not demand a bold leap from me. Faith for the journey is very different from faith for the initial leap. Push me over the cliff, and I'll draw on faith for the flight. But please don't make me jump on my own!

I miss a lot of growth, though, when I choose to never jump without being pushed. I hunger to grow in my boldness to step out into the new without coercion.

Choosing to teach myself to knit might seem such a little thing, but it represents something bigger. It represents my willingness to intentionally dive into something intimidating (I tried to learn to knit as a child and failed) without coercion or requirement. It represents stepping into something simply because I hunger to learn. It represents a willingness to try a hard thing because I desire the results. It represents a determination that overcomes failure. A few rows of stitching represents a lot more than just yellow yarn formed into loops.

So, I plug along. My current task is to practice what I have learned from three of sixteen lessons in this book. When I finish this book, I have a much bigger, more detailed book that I am sure will teach me much more. I have a couple of projects I really want to tackle. Even with the ease with which I have learned these first steps, I find myself overwhelmed with the magnitude of what remains to be learned. It will take years, I am sure, and I have a feeling there will always be something new. But taking that first step reminds me that new does not mean bad. God has new in store for me. I might remain overwhelmed and even terrified, but I desire to boldly jump, knowing that joy will come when I do.