Knit-diot

As I wait for the subway, I listen to the stilted, robotic announcement, "Ladies and Gentlemen, the next train is now arriving. Please stand away from the platform edge, especially as trains are entering and leaving the station," and I warily back myself beyond the non-slip yellow stripe that separates me from the abyss of the track, the third rail, the puddles and sports drink bottles and occasional soft-grey rats. I was downtown last week, and while the train was nowhere in sight I peered down the tunnel, and then onto the track. I recognized a tube of lip-gloss and a pen, things dropped by accident on top of the muck. I wondered what would happen if I dropped something valuable on the tracks.

Yesterday I brought a small knitting project in my messenger bag and took it out as I waited for the train. I kept the ball of yarn nested in the bag as I worked. I have mixed feelings about my messenger bag because the soft canvas pouches always fold themselves against my body in such a way as to complicate or completely prevent my attempts to put in or take out the various items that I may need, at least with one hand. When the train came, I quickly finished my row, stuffed the needles in (towards, at least) my bag with the yarn, and carried the whole thing towards the opening doors, but as I got the edge of the platform I heard a clink, and saw the glint of one needle bouncing off my bag, off my shoe, into the gap between the door of the train and the platform, and disappearing into the dark. 

Well, there's no use crying over spilled milk, or spilled needles. I had a third needle with me that I had planned to use as a cable needle halfway through, so I continued knitting with that one, although it meant committing what I'm sure is a great knit pas of using two different sized needles. I knitted until I got to the twist in the cable, which I needed to finish at home with another needle to serve as the cable needle.

And then, ta da! I had a bow for my hat! My mom made me a cloche hat for Christmas, and now I that I've made a bow to add to it, I feel that it's a great mother-daughter collaboration. (Didn't she do a great job? I've gotten so many compliments on it!)

Today I made a foray to Michael's (Oh, shucks! An excuse to go to the craft store! Just what I didn't want really wanted!) to get a replacement pair (okay, two pairs) of bamboo needles, even better than the old ones. HURRAY! So I'm a bona fide "knit-diot" now.

Today's Gospel was about the friends of a crippled man who were so desperate to get Jesus to heal him that they carried him to the house where Jesus was staying, fought through the crowds, carried him above the house and took the roof apart, and lowered their friend inside the house. There was no obstacle that would keep them from finding healing for this man, their friend.

My favorite thing about knitting is the way it fosters friendship. My mom, as she's honed her knitting skills, has always been able to rely on one of her closest friends who will come over to decipher a new pattern or inspect dropped or twisted stitches. When I started my first knitting project, I was excited for my mom's friend to come over and see my tentative, wiggly stitches. One of my coworkers started knitting this fall, too, and we excitedly talk about our projects and share ideas. And it was the friend who explored the botanical garden with me two weekends ago who told me how to knit cables, which I used for my bow, a single cable-twist. No matter how often we tangle our yarn or confuse our stitches, or drop our needles onto train tracks, our knitting buddies are there to see us through the obstacles. 

So knitting has allowed me the chance to reflect on friendship, to give thanks for friends who will go to any length necessary to see us whole, healed, and at peace, and to give thanks for the great friendship of God, who will let no obstacle stand between our confusion, or frustration, and God's holy, healing presence.