This has been a long week filled with firsts:
- I drove for the first time since my surgery.
- I spent a half-day at work for the first time in almost eight months.
- Colter got straight A's and made "principal's list" for the first time in his academic career.
These were some challenging days that reminded me why closets have doors and people have skin. Life is messy. And fragile.
Our old bodies, older dreams, and oldest emotions gather dust; our good intentions no longer fit, yet still pile up in the closets of our minds and our bedrooms. We need ways to let go -- of who we were, what we wanted, what was.
We need to knit.
I spent some time this week with a woman who taught me to knit differently than I remember my grandmother doing decades ago.
As my new teacher showed me how to handle the needles and yarn, I felt so stupid and so wise, doing nothing and everything at the same time. With each movement, I learned when to tighten my hold and when to release it; I learned to trust the pattern to emerge, row by row; I learned that bold threads, soothing textures, and warm women can create a community of faith and patience.
With my wooden needles, I felt myself knitting together a new life, stitch by stitch.