The Evil Intent of Envy

I entered the little shop, welcomed by the bells that banged on the door even before the cheery greetings of the people inside reached my ears. It was the first meeting of a new knitting group that was to come together weekly for a couple of hours to knit winter wear for homeless kids. Eager to join in a worthy cause as well as enjoy the company of people with a similar passion, I was excited to begin.

 

The first step was to select a pattern from the pile of samples on the table and then pick a yarn to knit with. And that’s where the trouble began.

 

I don’t make decisions easily. Ask my kids, and they will laugh and say, I don’t make decisions, period. I leave that task to an app on my phone, the Random Number Generator. I list the options to be decided between alphabetically in my mind, and then make the selection based on which numbered item on the list was the app’s choice. My rule is that if I ask the app to make the decision for me, then there is no second guessing the outcome. the decision is final.

 

The rule doesn’t say anything about second wishing, however. I do that all the time. Maybe even every time.

 

You see, I never travel anywhere alone. Everywhere I go, an uninvited guest accompanies me. His name is Envy, and for the most part, he is a silent companion. His eyes are his most distinguishing feature, not for their beauty but rather for their roving. They are never focused on what’s in front of me, but instead on that which is in front of my neighbor, whether it be at a table in a restaurant, in the bag of a friend on a shopping excursion, or in the hands of the knitter beside me. He never speaks until I have committed to a choice. And then he simply points at that which is in front of another, nudges me, and whispers, “Don’t you wish you had picked that?” Smiling, his duty now done, he leaves me alone and now dissatisfied, discontent having eroded my earlier joy.

 

Such was the situation I found myself in yesterday. Amazingly I had been able to pick a pattern from the stack in front of me. I chose a pair of fingerless mitts with an interesting stitch pattern worked into the body of the work. I would need to pick a solid color of yarn so the design would be visible in the knitted garment, and picked a bright shade of teal, one of my favorites. I eagerly bought a new circular needle I’d been advised to try and began casting on the required number of stitches, full of happy expectation.

 

Until the nudge that caused me to look at the two ladies seated next to me… and then I gasped in dismay. They had each chosen a simple ribbed hat pattern and were working with variegated yarns of the most beautiful rainbow colors. I felt the nudge of Envy and heard his whisper in my ear, Why hadn’t I chosen to do that?! Suddenly the joy in my current project vanished, and all I could think of was hurrying up and finishing it so I could work on what they were doing instead.

 

Thankfully I was able to eventually shake it off, and I did enjoy a couple of hours knitting new friendships with my heart rather than what I held in my hands, the form, fashion and color of which I eventually realized mattered not at all. The end result of the day was satisfaction with having spent those hours well, regardless of what project I would eventually finish and dump into the donation bin at the end of our time together.

 

My eyes were suddenly open to the purpose behind Envy’s, which is to distract me from what’s really important in whatever activity I’m engaged in by trying to focus my attention on insignificant details associated with the event. The realization that that what I’m doing with my heart is ever so much more important than what I’m doing with my hands at any given time sandbags my joy against the flood of discontent that Envy hopes to send my way.

 

 "Let your conduct be without covetousness; be content with such things as you have..."

(Hebrews 13:5 NKJV)