Knitting and Driving Ministry

I went to the nursing home to see how Mom K's knitting was proceeding and to take her for a drive. I thought perhaps she would like to see the sun and the blue sky, and something other than the locked memory care hallways. She has not been medically stable or strong enough to leave the facility for quite some time. But I felt now she would be able to at least go for a drive with me, and see the daffodils blooming, and the sun shining. At first she said no, she didn't wish to go for a drive, but the aides talked her into it. She had gotten a good 4 inch swath of the knitted scarf done, but no one could find her project when I arrived. I was very upset by this, and told the nurses that it was very important they find the yarn and the needles. As of last night, they still had not. I am not sure they understood it was not just about the cost of the materials and the trouble I had taken to get them, nor even that her private property was not safe there. It was that the project gave her purpose and joy. I don't know how long she has left on this earth, and if it can be filled meaningfully, then it should be.

But Mom K enjoyed the drive. I took her down some of the older streets with some of the grand old houses set among giant oaks. I kept a running monologue of the history and sights of the area, as much as I knew anyway. She nodded and looked about. It reminded me of the drives I used to take with my recently deceased friends, Comer and Evelyn.

A few days ago, I received a letter from a nephew of Comer's. I had not known about the nephew. Apparently, he read my book about Comer's war time experiences. Comer's twin brother Bill was mentioned throughout the book. The nephew, Bill's son, said Comer and his dad had rarely talked about their war days, and he was so happy to learn of what that time had been like. He wondered if I would share other stories I had learned? I had many stories, I thought, gleaned from all those drives we took through Charlotte and the surrounding countryside.

When we returned, Mom K seemed peaceful and content. The yarn project had still not been found.
"I'll look for it myself," she said, patting my hand.
"Had you gotten very far on the scarf?" I asked.
"Oh no," she said, "I made many mistakes so I had to stop and fix those first."
I recalled her crying one evening when she was not herself, and distraught. She was bemoaning all the mistakes she had made in life. Arvo had been with her at the time, and calmed her down, reminding her we all make mistakes, but we do the best we can, ask God's forgiveness when we fail, and move on.
Move on to the next stitch, and make it better than the last. If you drop a stitch, try to pick it up, and one day, it might become a beautiful scarf adorning the neck of someone you love...

Psalm 139:13-18 (NIV)
For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. [14] I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. [15] My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. [16] Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. [17] How precious to me are your thoughts, God! How vast is the sum of them! [18] Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand---when I awake, I am still with you.





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