Craig and I were inseparable a few days after meeting eachother, which meant I was also enmeshed with his two roommates. By the time they were all juniors at UofM living like true bachelor’s in a fairly decent apartment they folded me into their lives like a sister. When I entered the scene they had no choice but to move over and accommodate my feminine offerings and quirky habits. Specifically this meant that during the away football games we’d gather at their place to watch it on television. I’d help with the food, but I couldn’t be bothered to watch the game. I’ve never been able to develop a passion for sports. I brought my own entertainment. I was either working on a needlepoint or some knitting while they all screamed at the television and performed dramatic death scenes in the living room when UofM did something stupid.
Naturally they teased me relentlessly for my knitting, naming my activity “needle nerding”, which soon transformed into the nickname “nerdette”. Craig was the “nerd” for the exact reason that he had a relationship they envied and admired. Their raucous bantering with me didn’t cause me a single twitch. I always knew it was how these overgrown boys gave me their approval. And if there’s one thing about me that hasn’t changed, it’s that someone’s opinion will not alter my preferences. Is that a trait that comes with having red hair?
My “needling” began as a very young girl when my babysitter gave me my first skein of pink yarn and two metal knitting needles. I began knitting scarves that could have wrapped around our house twice to keep it warm for the cold Michigan winters. I can’t remember a time in my life when I wasn’t working on some sort of project involving a needle. When Craig and I first moved to Virginia I had an odd job, just for fun, working in a shop that offered every manner of needle nerding one could desire. I think I worked for yarn.
All the years I’ve been raising boys I keep my hands busy with some sort of knitting or needlepoint. They might not like you to know, but all of them have learned to knit and have exclaimed it is an activity that has an extreme calming effect. They felt the addiction as they would tell me, “I’ll stop after one more row”, and that was never where they stopped. That is probably why I’ve never given it up, it relaxes my body and frees up my mind to untangle thoughts and hopefully, happily, day dream. I also drift easily into stream of consciousness of prayer for all the people I love while I clack my needles and pull yarn.
I’ve recently finished the crib blanket I began for Kira many months ago. It’s twisted and knotted with countless prayers for her safety and protection during our separation. It’s purled with dreams of what our life will be like together and how much love she’s going to bring to our family. I have imagined her smiles, her giggles, her first words and those precious first steps. I hope for the day she tells me she loves Jesus. I know she’ll cuddle this soft warm blanket and feel secure as she drifts into her dreams.
The waiting for news of our adoption court date has made me restless. Nothing. I’ve cleared my calendar and I’m packed. I feel like I’ve got my toes curled around the edge of a diving board and I’m ready for that first high dive into the exhilarating deep below. I’m just waiting for the whistle to blow. (I’m convinced that person is sleeping.)
So… to bide my time I began knitting her a sweater and it’s helping me overcome the restlessness I feel about waiting. Knitting directs my thoughts to God’s timing for us and how it is and will be just right. At the rate of my clicking needles, fueled by nervous energy, she might have three new sweaters before I ever lay my eyes on her!