gina@lohmanhills.com

The other night, a person I don’t know posted to an online crochet group. She wanted to make an afghan where puff stitches would form a specific design like a heart, flower, or initial. But she lamented not having a pattern to follow.

I suggested she live dangerously and simply start crocheting and figure it out on the fly.

After all what she was describing didn’t seem overly difficult, and she could draw out the puff stitch part of the design on graph paper to count the spaces. And if worse came to worse, she could just rip the whole thing out and start over.

I come from a long family of froggers – if we don’t like it, we RIPPIT-RIPPIT out and try again. I mean…it’s just crochet.

If it doesn’t work out, all you’ve lost is time, and you’re guaranteed to learn something along the way because (just like Edison and the lightbulb) you’ve learned one way that didn’t work, so you’re that much closer to a solution.

The person replied to my comment, admitting she wasn’t brave enough to try making something without a pattern. She’d never done something so radical before. She wanted to be sure what she was crocheting would work before she started.

She was after guaranteed results.

I understand the sentiment. I’ve also learned it’s wrong. In crochet, and in life.

After all, crochet is far more forgiving than regular life. With yarn, small mistakes blend into the overall tapestry of the work and are never noticed. And if the mistake is bigger, well so what? It’s only yarn.

Financial mistakes, relationship gaffes, driving mishaps—all dwarf the lowly crochet blunder.

In crochet, just give the yarn a pull and do it over. Sure, it can be frustrating but what a teachable moment. What a safe haven to learn.

The more I thought about it, the more I figured it only made sense to take my own advice.

Instead of looking online for patterns for a new project I’d been thinking about, I dug into my sack of yarn and decided to crochet a messenger bag for myself…on the fly…without a pattern.

Yarn in one hand and a crochet hook in the other, I started chaining away. My enthusiasm got the better of me and my original chain was far too long (think laundry bag, not messenger bag). So I ripped out chains until what I had left was about as wide as the bookbag I hoped to replace. I stopped and counted — sixty-eight (weird number!) — so I added back two chains to make it an even seventy, made a chain to turn on, and the side panel was underway.

Hmmm…how big to make it?

Grab an iPad and a couple of books and crochet until the panel was large enough the iPad wouldn’t stick out the top. Ninety rows! And when the first panel was completed, another the exact same size quickly followed. On to the next part.

Now each day the purse strap gets longer. Hopefully I’ll soon have a strip of strap long enough to stitch three sides together and loop over my shoulder.

In the end, I don’t have a pattern, just an idea, a few balls of yarn, and a crochet hook. Soon I’ll not only have a pattern, I’ll also have a messenger bag and, more importantly, the confidence of knowing I figured it out myself.

The bigger takeaway from my messenger bag project is knowing when there are problems there are also solutions – and I can figure those out.

So take an easy risk.

Design your own crochet pattern…or quilt pattern if that’s your thing.

If cooking is more your speed, throw out the recipe book and whip up your own honey mustard or tzatziki sauce.

In the end, it doesn’t matter what you choose, just take an easy risk and see what happens. 

Then march forth, and sin bravely.

There’s a McAlister’s Deli in the town where we live, and we often stop by in the afternoon for a tall, beautiful glass of iced tea for me and a lemonade for my son.

Oh, who I am kidding–we’re there almost every day, and because McAlister’s gives free refills  all day long, sometimes we end up there two or three times. 

It may sound goofy, but that glass of McAlister’s iced tea never fails to bring me joy, especially during the long hot summer season, but on cold winter days, too.

Because we’re often there on our iced tea pilgrimage, I make a point of trying to learn the names of the kids working behind the counter. I do my best to ask how they’re doing in their classes in school or what their big plans are for the weekend. I try to remember to say “Have a good day/night” on my way out the door. 

These conversations are all very casual, but I want the people who bring me my tea to know that I see them. It just seems the decent thing to do, and I feel good about myself as a human being when I do it. In that regard, it’s a purely selfish motive.

But here’s the thing — over time, I’ve noticed a change in the way the staff at McAlister’s treats us. When we walked in the other day, Jon called out from behind the counter, “Welcome to McAlister’s to my favorite people!”

I did my “Finding Joy When You’re Just Not Feelin’ It” recently at a local venue, and during the Q & A session afterwards, someone asked me what to do to encourage the people around you to be more joyful, particularly if they’re not.

I answered, but the longer I’ve thought about it the more I’m convinced I gave the wrong answer.

What can you do to encourage people around you to be more joyful when they’re not?

Nothing. Not one blessed thing.

Because in the end, the only person I can change is me, and the only person you can change is you.

People give a lot of lip service to “be the change that you want to see in the world,” but when it comes to joy, that’s really true.

If you want to see more joy around you — then it starts with you. 

• Greet the kids behind the counter with a “hey, how’s it going?”
• Say please and thank you.
• Learn and say the names of the sales people you come into regular contact with.
• Go out on a limb and hold a door open for someone, and if they’re grouchy and rude in return, that’s on them, not on you. 

Be the joy you want to see in the world…even if you’re not feelin’ it. Because if you do, you might just start feelin’ it after all.

Each year on February 2 our family watches the movie Groundhog Day. 

This year because of the Super Bowl, and because we’re from Missouri (Huzzah, Chiefs!), we made due with the Groundhog Day commercial and decided to catch up with Phil, Rita, and Larry later on in the week.

And that’s what we did last night.

My husband and I saw the movie years ago when it first came out. I remember thinking it was cute and funny. Then four or five years ago we thought our son (who loves groundhogs) was old enough to appreciate it, so we watched it that year on the appropriate day.

He loved it so much it’s become a family tradition, just like the Halloween and Christmas Peanuts specials.

Last night as the action began to unfold, I was struck by how fresh the movie still is for me. Groundhog Day — a romantic comedy fantasy — reflects real life.

Have you seen this meme?

There’s a lot of truth in that, and I think that’s why Groundhog Day stands the test of time.

(If you’ve never seen the movie–fair warning–major spoilers ahead!)

Sure there’s exaggeration as Phil lives through the same day over and over and over again. By some estimates, he lived Groundhog Day more than 12,000 times, so around 34 years worth.

But here’s the thing — if you’ve been an adult for any amount of time, living on your own, responsible for yourself — you realize that there’s a certain amount of sameness to daily life. 

• What shall we have for dinner tonight? No, we didn’t have chili two nights ago — two nights ago was spaghetti. 
• Didn’t I just wash these exact same clothes? I thought I folded these same shirts last night? 
• What do you mean the car is out of gas? I spent $25 to fill up the tank just the other day.  
• Do you believe in deja vu? Because it seems like I’m always stuck in traffic, stopped at this same traffic light on my way across town. 

I relate to the panic Phil Connors experiences when he realizes he’s living the same day over and over again. Some days I feel the exact same way.

Unable to figure out why he’s stuck in a loop, Phil attempts all manner of things to deal with the repetitive nature of his new life. He tries to seduce women, working day after day to perfect his efforts to get Rita and Nancy into bed. When that doesn’t work, he turns to extremes like robbing armored cars, stealing the groundhog, and repeatedly killing himself. But still he wakes up at 6am each and every morning to Sonny and Cher singing “I Got You Babe.”

How many people do you know who cope with the daily grind of life in one of these ways?

Unfortunately, I know people who have partied and played too hard, trying to run away from the demons chasing them. I’ve watched friends date this, that, or the other one, not because they like or care about the other person but because they are scared to be alone. 

I’ve known people who chose to end their lives by committing suicide.

The great lesson of Groundhog Day is the way Phil comes to terms with himself and his place in the universe. He does the things he can. He saves a man from choking on his steak and catches a kid falling out of a tree. But he also realizes that no matter how hard he tries, he can’t prevent an old man from dying. 

After all his false starts and failures, Phil eventually changes the only thing he can change — himself. He takes piano lessons every day until he’s good enough to play with a jazz band. He learns to speak French and create complicated ice carvings. He listens to the people in Punxsutawney, reads books, and becomes part of the community. 

Groundhog Day is about the transformation of an unhappy, cynical man who doesn’t like himself, to someone who understands himself, knows he’s not perfect, and shows himself empathy and compassion. 

And finally, one day he gets everything exactly right…and wakes up on February 3rd.

In many ways that’s the great lesson I‘ve learn over a lifetime of my own Groundhog Days. 

Each day I wake up and hope I can get everything exactly right. And even though I don’t know that I’ve ever succeeded, I’m always glad to wake up on a new day — another chance to “get it right.”

Keeping the promises we make to ourselves is important because if you can’t count on yourself, who can you count on? Keeping those promises shows us we’re trustworthy and dependable. That’s a good thing!

But for all the promises we gladly keep, there are other promises — promises which have outlived their usefulness, which no longer fit our lives. 

That’s the problem with open ended promises. Sometimes there’s an implication that these promises can and should go on forever. If we don’t take time to re-evaluate, new promises become old promises.

Old promises can become burdens, the source of anger and frustrations. The promise you made yourself to always stop for groceries on Friday before the weekend turns into a nightmare when you’re bringing along a cranky, exhausted two-year-old you’ve picked up from daycare.

Out-of-date promises conflict with new promises that need to be kept. 

The man who promised to always, always, always be at his parents’ house for the Christmas holiday gets into a fight with his new wife because she made a promise to always, always, always be at her parents’ house for the Christmas holidays. 

Are we obligated to live up to every single promise we’ve ever made? Do we need to carry them around like so much baggage until they finally die of old age? Should a promise be the source of resentment and bad feelings? 

Rather than be passive aggressive on the promise keeping and then feel guilty because I’m falling down on my commitments, I prefer a proactive approach. 

Promises with time limits. 

Setting time constraints on promises encourages me to reflect regularly — and without all the guilt. 

For instance, I’m on the board of my local homeschool group, and when I joined the board, I promised to serve as long as my son was still in high school. But I’ll be “graduating” from the homeschool board at the same time he graduates from high school. 

Several years ago in January I promised myself I wouldn’t start any new projects until I finished all the old ones. During that year, I completed two quilts and a bunch of smaller projects, but because I made this promise for a year, as December rolled around, I knew that promise had run its course and I was ready to start something new.

Periodically thinking about the promises I make is a promise I’ve made to myself. Putting a time limit on a promise is another. 

I owe it to myself and the people around to think about the commitments — the promises — I’ve made. Does this still work for me as something I want to continue? If it’s a promise that involves other people, I can connect with them and see how they feel. Does this commitment still fit our lives? 

More importantly, it helps keep me from getting over-promised, a.k.a over-committed.