Friday, February 7, 2014
When I'm tired, crabby, or just frustrated, there are few things that pull me to center better than sticks and string.
A long, lean pair of birch knitting needles and an especially fat ball of wool; this is the start of something.
I like having a project going and one waiting in the wings. There's no hurry in it, no desperation to get it finished, just the quiet sense of something in the making.
A couple months ago I was at the kitchen window, remembering a kindness long past. I had opened a drawer and the memory was there waiting for me, lying in wait the way the crackle of a candy wrapper puts you back in a shop,standing at the counter with a dime clutched in your hand--sometimes.
A woman had made my life easier when I was just a girl, bringing beauty to a chaotic corner. I stood for a while, holding that drawer, and remembered.
I wanted to do something but what if she thought it silly? I hadn't seen her in years and years. The drawer won over silly. I got out needles and wool, made her a shawl, wrapped it, sent it, included a note and let it be.
I wanted her to know she had brought beauty into my life--and that I was thankful.
A few years ago I made a tiny coat for my grandson, wrapped it and sent it off. Every stitch a prayer for his growing up years, thankfulness for his little life.
It was a looking-forward coat. Would he be funny? Would he like to run fast? Would he be a poet, a thinker, a talker? Most of all, what would he hold in his heart--
The coat was meant to keep him warm against the cold, the prayers to hold him fast.
If the coat was a prayer,
...the shawl was a blessing.
You can find the patterns here: