When I was a little girl, I went to spend the weekend with
my great aunt Lorraine. She lived on a farm and being a city girl, I was
terribly bored. To keep my little hands busy, she taught me to sew. She gave me
a needle, some red thread and two facial tissues and showed me how to make an X
in the corner to attach them together. Before I left that weekend, there were a
lot of tissues sewn together. Aunt Lorraine had no idea what she had done – the
road she had started me down what a special place in my heart she would always
hold because of that.
When I was ten, my mother and my aunt taught me to crochet.
Once I got the hang of it, I was a granny-square-making machine (keep in mind
it has the ‘70s). I had always wanted to knit (seeing it as the Mount Everest
of needlework), but my no one in my circle knew how. A few years ago, we hosted
a German exchange student, Bea, who was kind enough to teach me to knit
Continental (which made more sense to an old crocheter than tossing the yarn). After
that I wanted to knit everything. I felt like I had summited the highest peak
on earth.
Recently, one of my dear friends was telling me that she saw
a great desire in her twelve year old daughter, Emily, to craft things with her
hands. Sadly, she has a panic attack every time she drives into the Joann's
parking lot. She's a great mom, but craft stores just create an anxiety in her.
I adore her daughter and told her that I would be her fairy Craftmother. Soon
after, we went on the shopping circuit (I am blessed with a Hobby Lobby,
Archiver’s, Michael's, and Joann's in a very tight area) and then we spent a
couple of hours in my studio. We talked craft and her curiosity in doing things
you don't know how to do - and the
courage it takes in middle school (or in middle age) to stick to who you are.
Her mom called me that afternoon to thank me for my time and for "filling
up" her Emily's soul.
When I think of the loving hands that showed me how to sew,
crochet and knit, I realize that they were crucial to making me who I am today.
I really didn't see very much of Aunt Lorraine since she died not long after
teaching me to sew. Bea went back to Germany and has started her own adult
life. But they have an extraordinary place in my heart. Their hands taught my
hands. Now, my hands are teaching Emily's hands. Emily's soul wasn't the only
one that was filled that day.
2 comments:
Beautiful, Holly! Very cool story. I have a quirky 7 year old who loves to craft, and me, not so much...we need to talk.
I love this story and that you are passing on the torch. Very touching the way you told it. Can't wait to read more (on to the next post!)
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