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Health & Fitness

Love Travels...

So I decided it was a skill I would never learn.. A gift I would never be able to pass along.. A loving project forever unfinished..

I have a ball of yarn.  This ball of yarn has sat – until last night – in a wicker basket in my closet for almost six years. This basket also contains some knitting needles. The yarn is wrapped in soft hues of baby blue,  pink and white.. This yarn was given to me in hopes that I could use it to finish a baby blanket my grandmother had begun for my children and was unable to finish.

My grandmother – my Mom’s Mom – loved to knit, cross stitch and crochet.  Every other room in her house in Maine had a small pretty woven basket decorated with flowers.  Inside these baskets were various types of yarn, crochet hooks, knitting needles and partially finished projects.

The baskets were usually found on the floor next to a cozy old chair or her bedside next to countless photo albums. She would work on these projects when we came on one of our many visits to their house. She would often hum a soothing gospel tune while working.. Her glasses making her already long eyelashes look longer and her deer shaped eyes larger… She was the most beautiful person, on the inside and out.

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She would knit or stitch a little, talk a little, sip her tea a little and simultaneously pat our heads  – with ease and contentment.

Her house in Maine was like our second home… A house that was always warmly lit and welcoming.  A house filled with miniature train sets, carvings, music, teacups, dogs, old dolls, Avon samples and board games. A house that wrapped you in a strangely soothing scent of “Ben Gay” and the smell of wood stove smoke.  A house where you could find a bible, prayer candle or a set of rosary beads in every room.

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One of my favorite places in the world…

We would never tire of making these trips to Maine. We would often begin the almost six hour journey in the early evenings after my father had finished work. I remember my family singing for most of the journey – My little sister plugging her ears and begrudgingly joining in – my Dad slightly out of tune – my Mom carrying the majority of the melody…

And all the while we were learning that love can --and will--travel...

 I remember the dark roads surrounded by pine trees.. the groggy efforts to stay awake and then then the relief felt when the cars tires hit the gravel driveway of my grandparents house…  Upon arrival  came long awaited hugs and kisses from my grandmother --  the belly laughter of my grandfather as we wrapped our arms around him – then  up the familiar stairs to our rooms and off to bed…To this day I have never rested as soundly as I did those nights  spent sleeping at my grandparents house… Even through my grandfathers snoring.

How I miss those times…

Anyways, back to my ball of yarn…I have tried on numerous occasions to learn to knit. My daughter had recently been taught by a friend of mine and I was jealous -- I so dearly wished to learn.

 I was convinced only divine intervention could help me with this task. And I was pretty sure “He” had more pressing matters to attend to then providing me with some sort of ability to knit..

So I decided it was a skill I would never learn... A gift I would never be able to pass along... A loving project forever unfinished.

Until last night…

I had gotten all but one of my kids to bed last night.. I was tired and worn, the dishes were stacked high and the laundry was piled higher.. The mail was still on the table beside the growing number of school newsletters and announcements I still needed to read and I was feeling a bit overwhelmed when a warm hand patted my back and a sweet voice spoke to me...

“Come sit with me in the living room.  I have made you and I some tea – I am going to work on my knitting and I know I can show you how to do it too. “

And she did.. with help unseen.. An eleven year old angel taught me to knit with ease and contentment..

Love travels....

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