Yarn And Blueberries

For about a month now, I have been trying to resume knitting as a hobby. My huge stash of yarn, needles, and other knitting accoutrement had been in a state of suspended animation, patiently waiting in the home office in various large baskets, project bags, on a closet shelf, and in a couple of drawers. Like many knitters, I became a sort of Eventual Project Hoarder, buying skeins that caught my eye, planning for their eventual use, and dreaming of the things they'd become. Knitting was a hobby I could enjoy everywhere and anytime, and I did for many years.

Because of my illness, it became increasingly difficult to knit. Not only did it create muscle aches and pains in my wrists, arms, and shoulders, I found myself struggling at times to remember certain stitches or particular skills. I felt frustrated, sad, and an immense sense of failure. A hobby should not feel like a chore or a test. I thought so fondly of the many hours I had spent knitting, creating, designing colourways, and the feeling of satisfaction when an item was finished. Additionally, I felt very keenly the money I'd spent on supplies--supplies which were now sitting unused. The sheer waste was crushing to me.

Finally, and with support from Rick, I made the decision to box it all up and find a home for it. All of it. Keeping it was simply another source of dismay and stress for me; I needed to get to a place of Acceptance and move on. It was much more difficult than I ever thought it would be. Just holding all the skeins and balls of gorgeous yarn as I put them into boxes felt like an admonition. But I knew it was the right thing to do, and I was doing it.

This morning, I called Wells Glen, a nearby senior residential facility. If the name sounds faintly familiar, it may be because that's where Tish went to live the last of her days.  It would seem that our saga has not yet ended. 

The young man who answered the phone at Wells Glen was delighted by my offer of knitting supplies. He checked with the activity director who said there were a great many knitters there, and she was excited to hear of my donation. "You're very kind," he said. "I'm so glad you thought of us." I told him we would be there shortly, and thanked him for his help.

Rick carried the huge boxes out to the car and we set off. I remembered the last time I had gone there on a mission to deliver a package for Tish that had languished on her porch for days and days. At that time, I was full of trepidation and sadness. This time, however, I felt energized and lightened. In a strange way, I sensed another circle closing, a glimmer of the power of Fate and the omniscience of the Universe. Instead of feeling grief or sadness, I felt resolution and serenity.

The same young man I had spoken to on the phone greeted me at the reception desk. He told me that he had only been working there for about a month. His eyes widened in surprise at the size of the boxes. He reiterated his gratitude and remarked again upon my kindness. "Please," I said. "I am so grateful that you could accept all this. It's doing me a huge favour. Thank you." We smiled and said goodbye. I went home and put other things on the shelf and in the drawers. I felt settled and happy. 

Sometimes in our lives, Struggles can become Victories. We can find Peace in our decisions when they are well-made and thoughtful. And we enrich our own lives when we consider others in Kindness. 

  

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