It was December of 2001 when a 15 year old girl, stuck at home with health problems, decided to take up crocheting. Up until that point she had tried knitting and sewing with no success, but failure wasn’t in her vocabulary. After picking up a book for teenagers about crochet basics she began to realize where her talent lie. The basics soon became too boring to hold any interest and so a search for stuffed animal patterns began. It was 2001, so the online options were slim. The craft stores and book stores didn’t seem to carry any animal patterns, crochet or knit. So came one of the most life changing moments of her life. The very first of her original design stuffed animal patterns was formed. A koala bear was born in her home in New Jersey.
In case you didn’t guess, that girl was me more years ago than I care to admit. It seems like another lifetime ago. Yet here I am, in my thirties, with a flourishing crochet stuffed animal business. It didn’t happen all at once. I made that first animal than just a couple more in my teens. I didn’t have much time between school, work and home life to do more than that. I did sell some at home town craft fairs, but not more than a few dollars here and there. I even dropped the stuffed animal making for a while in my twenties. It wasn’t until I was almost thirty I would realize the girl who had created those delightful animals was still in there waiting to come to life.
As I approached an age so many women dread I found myself reminiscing over my past successes. One of those were my stuffed animals. Making something with my own two hands always feels amazing. As a cook I loved creating food to sell to people. As a crafter I had enjoyed making animals for my family. Unfortunately, most of the children in my life were flooded with more animals than they needed. It occurred to me that I could in fact do the crocheting and sell them to other people. Only it wouldn’t specifically be about the money. It would be about my own creative outlet and making others happy.
I couldn’t have known then where my talent would lead me. It wasn’t easy at first. Starting selling at craft fairs seems like fun at first. You start by choosing some affordable fairs because you don’t have one hundred dollars here, two hundred dollars there. Then you work those fairs only to find there aren’t many people in attendance and you’re lucky if you break even. I almost gave up after the first couple years of failures. Then there was that one big success, which wasn’t as big as I thought at the time. After a couple more years I found myself with some really great fairs that kept me crocheting most of the time.
As I said, though, it wasn’t just about the money. The money helps but most crafters have to undersell their product. In the end it was about the customer. It brings me amazing joy every time I work a fair to see a child’s face light up with joy, a parent walking away feeling good about their purchase, and yes, even a dog wagging its tail while carrying the stuffed animal in its mouth. There is nothing better in the world than making other people’s lives just a little bit brighter. I’ve met so many children and heard so many stories in later years from Bob the purple koala bear to Namboo the bee who had a baby unicorn with another animal.
What’s more is how much joy all that crafting brought to me. Each year at least one new animal is added to the list. That list now contains around twenty four animals. The koala bear was my first animal creation and was only the beginning. To date my highest seller are my dragons and of course are also my favorite to work. Getting to sit there crocheting each stitch, sewing each limb, and making the strongest yet softest animal possible is relaxing, rewarding and entertaining. I enjoy working on each piece with as much love as anyone can put into their creations. The fact that each and every pattern is designed by me just makes it mean all the more in the creative process. I couldn’t ask for anything better than working with my hands and the tools designed for them.
I hope each one of you who reads this can find your own passion for crafting. Maybe it’s not crocheting. Maybe it’s something not many have heard of before. You may not even be really good at the craft. As long as you enjoy what you do that joy will be in your work. It would be an amazing world where we could all create what makes us happy.
About the Creator
Rita DeStefano
Born with art in my soul, then taught to express it in various ways, my first and primary passion is writing. I love writing romantic fantasy, though will dabble in other genres. I hope you love my stories as much as I enjoy writing them.
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A Date With Merlot
Meghan headed out for her daily walk on a cool crisp day in October when she first saw him. The new man moving into her building was so handsome and distinguished, he took her breath away. His body was lithe and muscular without being too muscular. His hair was dark with just the right amount of white frosting the top of his head. His eyes were bluer than the sky on a good day, such as this one. He was definitely as delicious looking as a tall glass of fine wine.
By Rita DeStefano5 years ago in Humans
Hind Rajab: A Child the World Heard Too Late
Cinema has always been a powerful medium for telling stories that history books often reduce to numbers. When a film chooses to focus on a single child caught in the machinery of war, it forces audiences to confront reality not as statistics, but as human loss. The movie inspired by the tragic story of Hind Rajab, a young Palestinian girl, does exactly that. It is not merely a film; it is a testimony, a memorial, and a question posed to the conscience of the world. Hind Rajab’s name became known globally after reports emerged of her final hours during the Gaza conflict. She was a child trapped in circumstances no child should ever experience. The film based on her story does not sensationalize her death, nor does it turn her suffering into spectacle. Instead, it approaches her story with restraint, dignity, and an unwavering focus on innocence lost amid violence. The Story at the Heart of the Film The movie centers on a young Palestinian girl who becomes separated from safety during intense military escalation. Through her eyes, viewers witness fear, confusion, and the fragile hope that someone, somewhere, will come to help. The film follows her final journey—both physical and emotional—using minimal dialogue and powerful visual storytelling. Rather than relying on graphic imagery, the filmmakers choose silence, pauses, and close-up shots to convey terror and vulnerability. This artistic choice makes the film even more haunting. The audience is left to sit with the child’s fear, her calls for help, and the unbearable waiting that defines her final moments. By focusing on Hind as an individual rather than a symbol, the film restores her humanity. She is not portrayed as a political tool, but as a daughter, a child with dreams, and a life that mattered. A Child as the Center of a Global Tragedy What makes this movie particularly impactful is its refusal to shift focus away from the civilian cost of war. The story does not revolve around soldiers, strategies, or power struggles. It revolves around a child who should have been worried about school, friends, and play—not survival. This narrative choice challenges the audience to rethink how conflicts are discussed in media and politics. Wars are often framed in terms of borders, ideologies, and victory. This film asks a different question: What is the price paid by those who have no role in choosing the war? By centering the story on Hind, the film exposes the imbalance of power and the devastating consequences faced by the most vulnerable. Artistic Direction and Emotional Weight The film’s direction is deliberately restrained. There is no dramatic background score overpowering the scenes. Instead, ambient sounds—distant explosions, static-filled phone calls, the quiet breathing of a frightened child—carry the emotional weight. This realism makes the film deeply unsettling. The young actress portraying Hind delivers a performance that is heartbreakingly authentic. Her expressions alone communicate fear, confusion, and bravery far beyond her years. The filmmakers avoid overacting or melodrama, allowing the story’s truth to speak for itself. Cinematography plays a crucial role as well. Tight frames and limited perspectives reinforce the feeling of entrapment, while long, unbroken shots force viewers to experience time as Hind did—slow, uncertain, and terrifying. A Political Film Without Political Speeches One of the film’s greatest strengths is that it does not rely on speeches or overt political messaging. Its power lies in its simplicity. By telling one child’s story honestly, it exposes the broader reality of civilian suffering in conflict zones. The film does not tell audiences what to think. Instead, it asks them to feel—and that is far more powerful. Viewers are left to grapple with difficult questions about responsibility, accountability, and the value of human life. This approach has made the movie resonate across cultures and ideologies. Even those unfamiliar with the details of the Palestinian struggle can connect with the universal themes of childhood, fear, and loss. Reception and Global Impact Since its release, the film has sparked intense discussion on social media, in film circles, and among human rights advocates. Many viewers describe it as one of the most emotionally challenging films they have ever watched. Critics have praised its ethical storytelling and refusal to exploit tragedy. For many, the movie serves as an entry point into understanding the human cost of the Gaza conflict. It has been screened at independent film festivals and community events, often followed by discussions about civilian protection and children in war zones. Most importantly, the film ensures that Hind Rajab’s name is not forgotten. In a world where news cycles move quickly, cinema has given her story permanence. Why This Film Matters This movie matters because it stands against normalization of suffering. It reminds us that behind every headline about war are real people, real families, and real children whose lives are forever altered—or ended. By immortalizing Hind Rajab’s story, the film becomes an act of resistance against silence. It insists that her life had meaning and that her death deserves acknowledgment, reflection, and accountability. In the end, this is not just a film about one Palestinian girl. It is a film about every child trapped in conflict, every unanswered call for help, and every moment when humanity fails its youngest members. Cinema cannot undo tragedy, but it can refuse to let it be ignored. And in doing so, this film ensures that Hind Rajab’s story continues to speak—long after the screen fades to black.
By Hasbanullah3 days ago in Humans
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