From Hart to Hearts
A Message from Rev Linda Hart for the month of February 2009
A month ago, I was browsing an online forum for knitters and other people who craft with yarn and spotted a story about a gift of love that had endured. Often in this forum, knitters will complain about people who do not appreciate the gift of a handknitted item. This story was vastly different. The writer of the story explained that her mum had made a cardigan for a beloved friend some 30 or 40 years ago. Both women were now in their late 80's and the friend was dying. Throughout her illness, the woman had put on this old cardigan to keep herself warm. It was quite old, and rather battered because it had been worn so long and so well. As the last days of her life approached, her daughter tried to take the cardigan to wash and perhaps repair it a bit – it was indeed tattered. But the woman wouldn’t allow it, and she took her last breath wrapped in the warmth and love of this old friend’s gift given so many years before.
It started me thinking about gifts, and what we offer to each other, both in that practical sense of the items we give and the spirit of giving. And as Stitches and Stories comes to its fifth anniversary, it seems a fitting topic for some reflection. Stitches and Stories, as surely you know, gives away blankets, bed socks, baby hats, and all manner of knitted, stitched and crocheted items to help people in need: hospice patients, premature babies, parents of stillborn babies. Each item that we give has the imprint of our care and concern on it, as each is made with our intention of caring for the world. They are all gifts of love, packaged up in brown paper and sent with our prayers that they may help people in painful circumstances. The gift of love comes in many guises.
Another gift of love came to me through a knitted gift I made for a friend. The hat she wore in winter had begun to look a little bit ragged, and after hearing a conversation about how she was wearing more colour, I thought I would make her a hat. (Another friend has commented that she fears standing too close to me sometimes lest she find something knitted over her while near me!) I got a gift of some pretty blue handspun yarn, and set to work. I loved the pattern and learned how to make cables while I was knitting it. The yarn was soft and pretty, and the knitting came along quickly. Once finishing the hat, I realised that I had enough to make a small scarf, so went ahead and knitted it.
At a gathering, I caught this friend early enough to give her the hat and scarf. With great joy and excitement I handed them to her, and she went to try them on. We seemed to get caught up in other conversation, but after a good 10 minutes, I asked if she like the hat. She got very quiet. It took her a few moments to compose herself.
‘It’s beautiful, Linda,’ she said cautiously, ‘but it doesn’t really suit me.’
She began to apologise, and it was difficult to get her to stop.
‘Thank you,’ I said to her. ‘Thank you for trusting me enough to say that it didn’t suit you. I would much prefer that you tell me and I take it back than to have you take it and tuck it away in a drawer where you’d never see it again, and where it wouldn’t be loved and worn.’
The scarf, on the other hand, suited her just fine, and now she is wearing it, a proper gift of my care that she takes with her on cold days. And I get to wear the hat, and it blesses me twice each time I put it on: the blessing of having a beautiful hand knit hat that I am right proud to have, and the reminder of the gift of friendship that is strong enough for truth to be spoken. Twice blessed, indeed.
Linda