Dear Kay,
It was a good holiday, right? You survived #Snomaha; I survived #WaikikiNashville. It’s spookylike, this warm weather, certainly the first time I ever grilled the Christmas roast beast outside.
Amid the weathery weirdness, I have a holiday story to tell.
About three and a half years ago, I wrote a post, “Undelivered Handknit.” It’s not long, but it is depressing. What struck me then, and now as I read it again, was the amazing response from everybody here on the blog, hearing how common it is for a family member to go off the rails. It was a comfort to read all these stories, as harrowing and heartbreaking as they were.
A lot has happened since then. The scarf I had intended to give this person during the intervention in Florida languished in my closet, surviving a comprehensive closet cleanout not because this scarf sparked joy, but because it was an unanswered question, a gift not given, a visible reminder of limbo.
I couldn’t get rid of it, because I had every intention of giving it to this person. My hope with this scarf was to give it to her when she was in a better place, though I had no idea when or if that might ever happen.
Well, she was in town this week, and we had lunch. She is in a better place—a place utterly unrecognizable from her life in 2012. We walked outside the restaurant in that strangely balmy air of the day after Christmas, and my head spun from all our talk. I thought about courage, and patience, and redemption, and how all these things are at work in this young woman.
It was a terrible gift, really—a mohair scarf for someone living in Florida. But it didn’t matter. She said she liked it. The joy I felt in giving her this scarf can hardly be described.
Love,
Ann
I am so happy for you. That is a beautiful ending to the story.
Great redemptive story, wow!
That mohair scarf represents hope and its reward. Beautiful.
That’s wonderful. Seems like she has done a tremendous amount of work. Great to be able to celebrate with conversation and a gift. Thanks for spreading a story of hope.
Thank you!
As I hang out on this crazy globe for more time, I realize, again and again, that all manner of things take time. I’m a list-maker, an encourager, a structure-and-discipline person. . . but many times what needs to happen is for time to pass for healing, for growth, for ??? to happen. I really *hate* that fact, because it requires me to do nothing: no lists, no helpful articles, no structures. But the payoff is the huge grace of the discovery that enough time has passed (without my assistance or supervision! Imagine!) and something new and different has occurred. Your story of handknits undelivered and delivered reminds me of that fact. So happy for you; thanks for sharing.
I should have ask permission first. My apologies for not doing so, but I was so struck by your wisdom that I immediately copied your reply and sent it to my daughter. I even posted it over in a forum on Ravelry (credited to you not me) because it seemed so appropriate to the discussion. Not to excuse my over enthusiastic, but unsanctioned, actions, I think you’ll be copied and reposted many times. Such a lovely, loving, and elegant way to say “resign as general manager of the universe”.
Thank you for giving all of us a reminder to sometimes just do nothing – and trust.
Rebecca, that is the most lovely way of saying what I feel ALL the time. Thank you!
Answered prayers are the best gift of all. I’m so glad your friend has found her way… And the lovely scarf has a home. Many blessings!
A beautiful story of healing and grace. Thank you.
So glad your friend’s life seems to be in a better place. Your hand knit scarf will be a lovely hug from you wrapped around her…in good times and in bad. I can’t think of a lovelier ending to this story!
Hallelujah!
(Been there, too. It’s a great moment.)
Thank you for this uplifting post. There’s no such thing as a terrible hand knit gift. I’m sure she will treasure it and its reminder of you and your presence in her life at her darkest hour.
What a wonderful story for any day of the year, but coming at the holidays it’s even more special.
Being too familiar with that situation, I’m very glad for you and your friend. These situations take a toll on everyone, so good days are truly welcome.
So happy for you, and for her. That beautiful scarf represents love, hope, and faith. What a profound gift for both of you.
This update brought tears to my eyes, and reminds me that sometimes our lives need a little ripping back and careful time reknitting the pieces together.
Thank you for sharing!
This post s a perfect short story.Even better that its non-fiction. I love a story with redemption. (ask my bookgroup).
And you, Ann, are demonstrating what unconditional love means. Joy to you, and to her.
So happy for you both that this story has a happy ending.
Oh I am SO glad! It is wonderful to read this, Ann, especially right at this moment when pretty much everything, happy or sad, is bringing tears to my eyes. I really, really need to keep the happy aspect to the front and center of my attention. Thank you for sharing this happy aspect.
Feeling quiet joy and hope. Thank you for sharing this story. It is powerful.
Great tale about the value Of hope and the need for patience.
Where’s the LOVE button when you need it? This is why I like you so much you don’t mind going THERE whether there is full of sorrow, joy or just twiddling thumbs (twiddling knitting needles in your case). Looking so forward to seeing what 2016 brings us all. xo
Oh, I remember that story very well, and have wondered since then how she was doing. I am SO glad to hear that things are better now, and that you finally got to give her the wildly inappropriate gift! 🙂
Your held on to that scarf in hope — and it was fulfilled. A mohair scarf in Florida may be a misplaced gift — but a scarf that says, “I never gave up hope that I could give this to you” — is the perfect gift. This was a story worth good tears. Thank you. And “Yay!”
Thanks for letting us in on the fate of your loved one and the mohair scarf.
That story has haunted me through the years and I am full of praise that you were finally able to deliver the love in the gift to your dear one who has not just survived but moved forward. Songs of Joy!
The Green Scarf Project. I remember the first episode, glad there is a second chapter. You never know what will turn the light on for someone, could be just a moment or a simple gesture. “There’s always hope with water and soap” (Ed Norton). And I’m with Quinn – needed this, too.
Your persistence in making beautiful stitches is mirrored in your grace in holding that recipient close enough to your heart that she can find you again.
We are blessed with your honesty. You make the internet (and Florida, and your home) a better place. In my own way I call you a friend because I gain so much from what you share.
you will never really know how deep your blog went into my heart. I can only say thank you. You are so much a part of her recovery. Love Dad
I have loved your books and designs since first published. Thank you for sharing your talents, families and commentary!
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I read that post when you first wrote it and have remembered it often because I’ve lived my own version of your story. Thank you for sharing it all so eloquently and thoughtfully.
Thank you. A perfectly lovely story.