Works of the Heart

Over the years, I have attempted to learn how to knit and crochet many times. I've always loved the beautiful colors of yarn on the store shelves, their soft texture just begging me to run my fingers along the neatly rolled skeins. I would enthusiastically begin projects that I lacked fortitude to finish when I couldn't figure out how to fix the many mistakes I kept making. It was easier to give up than ask for help and keep working at the skill until I became proficient.

That all changed about twelve years ago.

My grandmother was an amazingly talented knitter and crocheter. We still have all the blankets, sweaters and hats that she lovingly made for her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Now that my own kids are starting their families, I've started passing these treasures down to them. I think it's so special that these little ones are wrapped in blankets made by their great-great grandmother!

Twelve years ago, my Grandma was diagnosed with terminal cancer. I wanted to show my love for her by crocheting her a blanket. This time, my motivation was much deeper than just the beauty and feel of the yarn. I wanted Grandma to know that what she gave to me...loving her family by cooking for them, making handmade gifts of beauty, and praying for all of us with her daily rosary...meant so much to me. I inherited my Grandma's love of her faith, big family meals (with lots of homemade desserts(!), and I wanted to be able to push past my lack of fortitude and pride to create something beautiful for her.

It's Not About Perfection

I asked my friend, Carol, to help me learn a simple crochet stich and feverishly started working on a blanket with beautiful, soft yarn in multiple shades of purple. Grandma's health declined fairly quickly as I spent every night after my kids went to bed working on stitch after stitch. While it was certainly a work of love more than perfection, (there were quite a few uneven rows!) I was able to finish it in the nick of time. I delivered the gift the last time I saw my Grandma. It was the last day that she was awake and just a couple of days before she passed. My aunts were caring for her full time in my Grandmother's small apartment in elderly housing, and they laid my blanket over her legs.

Even though the blanket wasn't perfect, it brought me so much joy to be able to give my grandmother a gift that came from my heart. The blanket felt like a whispered thank-you for all that she had taught me by the example of her life.

Even though I didn't regularly crochet after that first special project, it gave me the desire and the confidence that I could carry on my grandmother's creative legacy. (Along with making her stuffed quahogs and apple pie!)

About four years ago, I learned that I was going to become a grandmother for the first time. Crocheting a blanket for this new little life and continuing my Grandma's tradition was really important to me. After learning that there would be twin boys joining our family, I watched some youtube videos, bought some yarn in blue and green hues, and jumped right in!

Now, each of my grandbabies gets a hand crocheted blanket from Grammy before their arrival. (and so do my kids' friends who have started families of their own.) I'm currently working on a blanket for grandbaby number six, a sweet little girl that is due to join our family in early November.

The Grace of Connection

Creating these gifts of love feels like I'm crocheting more that just yarn. I feel like I'm stitching together history of our family; one woman's love passed down from one generation to the next, like a string just waiting to be crocheted into the lives of the next generation. 

My grandmother might not have had wealth or celebrity status or anything that the world would have seen as special and admirable, but she did have the most important thing: love. And she poured out her love to all of us in small, hidden ways her entire life; even knitting or crocheting for her great-grandchildren at the age of 93 despite the pain of severely arthritic fingers!

Grandma wanted each and every member of her family to know her love for them. It's the last words that I heard her say. Grandma knew she was in the last hours of her life at my last visit with her. As I stood by my Grandma's bed holding my almost one year old daughter, Kate, my grandmother reached out to touch her little legs saying over and over again, "I love you. I love you. I loved you." Grandma wanted to make sure that Kate knew how loved she was by her, since she wouldn't be here to tell Kate as she grew up. To Grandma, love was always the most important thing.

I hope that my Grandma is smiling down from Heaven every time one of her great-great grandchildren is wrapped in the work of her hands...and the work of her heart. 

Just a couple examples of my Grandma's creations!:)