Life between the needles…
It amazes me how much knitting is like life and life is like knitting. I don’t know about you, but life imitates art and art imitates life around my house. I learn as much about life between my needles as I do anywhere else, which is why I think the craft has held such a fascination for me over the years.
This scarf isn’t perfect. My misstep earlier in the pattern gives the thing a funky little curve on one end. It failed to go in the straight line I intended. And what life hasn’t taken curves we never planned?
Still, it is beautiful. It gives me joy to lose myself in the rich color and the steady texture of the garter stitch. I smile at the lattice work effect achieved by the yarn-overs on one end. It’s unique, it’s clever, and it is the work of my hands.
All these things brought me great comfort yesterday. Life dumped still another medical obstacle in our family’s path, and I found myself stuck in “overwhelm” mode. For a control freak like myself, that’s the most uncomfortable place of all.
I had a task list topping out over 40 items long, but I couldn’t think straight enough to do the next thing. So I took a deep breath, made myself a cup of coffee, and went out on the deck with my knitting for half an hour. Like it has every time, my knitting handed me back enough of myself to gain a foothold. I let the marvelous mixture of prayer, fiber, coffee, and sunshine take a stand against the vague cloud of panic that engulfed me. I let the stitches help me to catch my breath. They did. They always do.
Sure, I get scarves and hats and mittens out of knitting. And that’s nice. But more than that, I get life out of knitting. That is precious to me, and always will be.