pastoral knitting
First, though, BB, I gotta ask: what's frogging?
And tell me more (at least I *think* I want to know) about spit splicing...or do I? ;)
Back to my subject line, pastoral knitting...I'm sure every knitter knows that knitting is recommended for anger management, and I can really relate. Not that I'm much prone to anger, but I do appreciate the soothing nature of it...knitting, I mean. Not anger. ;)
But I ran across a further amplification of that principle recently. My mother had a serious spinal surgery, lasting several hours, and her pastor was the first to show up to sit with me. This wonderful woman, Amy Elder, who is now atop my own pantheon of those I admire for a whole bunch of reasons, took out some knitting while I was working on cross-stitch. She was doing dishcloths (don't you just adore knitted dishcloths? Indestructible, and they just feel so dadgum good in the hand!) because, as she explained to me, she wanted her attention not to be distracted from the needs of her flock, but she'd discovered that if she brought her knitting, it gave those she was sitting with the option to talk if they wished or to be silent and not feel odd about it. And doing dishcloths is mindless enough that she can direct her attention toward them and not her stitches...plus, of course, there's always a need for dishcloths.
So we sat and stitched and knitted, and sometimes we spoke (actually we spoke a lot because, well...she's wonderful and interesting and we got on like gangbusters)...but sometimes we were just silent, enjoying the companionship and the soothing touch of busy hands.
Jean
www.jeanbrashear.com
And tell me more (at least I *think* I want to know) about spit splicing...or do I? ;)
Back to my subject line, pastoral knitting...I'm sure every knitter knows that knitting is recommended for anger management, and I can really relate. Not that I'm much prone to anger, but I do appreciate the soothing nature of it...knitting, I mean. Not anger. ;)
But I ran across a further amplification of that principle recently. My mother had a serious spinal surgery, lasting several hours, and her pastor was the first to show up to sit with me. This wonderful woman, Amy Elder, who is now atop my own pantheon of those I admire for a whole bunch of reasons, took out some knitting while I was working on cross-stitch. She was doing dishcloths (don't you just adore knitted dishcloths? Indestructible, and they just feel so dadgum good in the hand!) because, as she explained to me, she wanted her attention not to be distracted from the needs of her flock, but she'd discovered that if she brought her knitting, it gave those she was sitting with the option to talk if they wished or to be silent and not feel odd about it. And doing dishcloths is mindless enough that she can direct her attention toward them and not her stitches...plus, of course, there's always a need for dishcloths.
So we sat and stitched and knitted, and sometimes we spoke (actually we spoke a lot because, well...she's wonderful and interesting and we got on like gangbusters)...but sometimes we were just silent, enjoying the companionship and the soothing touch of busy hands.
Jean
www.jeanbrashear.com
posted by Anonymous at 8:48 PM
2 Comments:
Frogging.....when you "rippit. rippit. rippit."
Jean, I loved this! Frogging is, as anonymous said, ripping out. Sometimes rows, sometimes the whole thing ends up in the frog pond. When you painstakingly undo stitch by stitch, it's called "tinking." (Tink is knit backwards.) I swear it took me a year to catch on to the knitting lingo. NAYY . . . LYS . . . there's one that means having more yarn than you could use in your lifetime but I can't recall it at the moment.
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