Knitting Pretty

Christmas Eve was usually reserved for family but this year Elenor and Fletcher were joining us. Elenor was a chipper woman with short salt and pepper hair and a ringing laugh. She was my teacher for piano, pipe organ, knitting, and weaving. Her husband Fletcher was sweet, soft spoken, and also a musician. He could play any kind of horn you could think of including a sackbut. Needless to say they were good friends and delightful company. When it came to opening presents, Elenor handed me a small box wrapped in bright red paper with a green bow on top. I carefully unwrapped it to find a pair of small, bright scissors in the form of a crane. The two finger holes sat in place of the legs while the golden body of the crane formed the main shaft of the scissors. A long delicate silver beak served as the sharp blades of the implement.

My mother took one look at it and started laughing. Elenor and I looked at her and then each other in confusion. Mom rushed over to the tree searching for a present and came back with another small box wrapped in green paper for me to open. In this box was another pair of crane scissors though slightly different in design. Elenor burst out in her own ringing laugh of understanding when she saw them.

The scissors from my mother lived in my embroidery basket and the scissors from Elenor lived with my knitting. Although I no longer weave or embroider, I still knit to this day and still use those crane scissors. My extensive collection of yarn comes mainly from Goodwill and St. Vincent's. People donate leftover yarn from their own projects and they become the materials for mine. Why waste perfectly good yarn that can be made into hats, rainbow scarves, or my favorite, catnip mouse toys? I sit contentedly in my basement knitting away at whatever takes my fancy while watching TV or listening to a podcast. At this point, I can make things without a pattern but will occasionally pick up a knitting book from St. Vincent's for new ideas along with my haul of yarn and anything else I find. I'll make anything I please from mittens to slippers to drawstring bags.

Knitting brings many joys with it. I get to be creative in picking color, texture, shape, and size. Frequent mistakes lead to lessons learned and a healthy sense of humility. There is the pride in the finished product and the delight of giving it to someone special or donating to the local homeless shelter. But best of all is the soothing rhythm which occupies my fidgety hands and calms my nervous mind. Knit 2, perl 2 ribbing forms in my hands as the soft yarn slides through my fingers. I am present and grounded without worry about the past or future. The only thoughts of the past that come up happen when I reach for my crane scissors. I smile thinking of Elenor spending countless hours knitting and talking with a shy, socially awkward girl. Thanks in part to her kindness and acceptance, I am no longer shy and awkward. Now I sit and talk with shy, awkward kids in my therapy office teaching them to knit as we talk about their struggles. And the gift keeps giving.