Apr. 12, 2007 - She works with her hands
I finally finished Sister Bear's Christmas present. Yes, I said Christmas present. Don't look at me like that. I already feel guilty enough.
I started this afghan on Thanksgiving Day. Then my roller coaster health and my large amount of charity work sucked up all my time and energy. To top it off, I haven't been able to crochet for almost two months! I went through major withdrawal. The surgery caused me to completely lose my strength in my left arm, and the pain from the pacemaker site was significantly worse than it ever has been from previous procedures. That's the only real complication I had this time around. The doctors said my body was just taking extra time getting over the trauma. I only started crocheting again last week. I'm glad to be back at it. I have so many projects yet to complete.
I adore the feeling of making something by hand for my home or family. It makes me feel all Proverbs 31 inside. 
Back in my social work days, I had a job where I helped the elderly obtain medication. Since many of my clients lacked transportation, I would frequently visit them in their own homes. This was when I lived on the edge of the middle of nowhere Kentucky, so I spent my days exploring a variety of nooks, crannies, and hollers. One of my clients was this incredibily sweet 80 year old woman. I wanted her life; or at least her house. She lived in a log cabin at the end of a dirt lane surrounded by forest. Her house had a dozen different scents mingled at one time, and all of them made you either nostalgic or hungry. The heat from the fireplace provided a toasty atmosphere and musical background of pops and cracks. And the quilts! Oh, the quilts! They hung from the walls and draped on the furniture. Everything that decorated the entire place looked like she'd made it herself between babies, laundry, and loving her husband. She had decades of history on those walls. I want a house like that.
Whenever I see what people pay for the latest decorating trend, I'm always more than a little confused. Are they really going to pass that overpriced Pottery Barn trinket down for generations? Is that a legacy? Sure, I agree all that "stuff" looks nice in the magazines, but it is, after all, just stuff. Give me a home dripping with handmade reminders of my life. A scrapbook of hours spent in fabric, yarn, and thread. Not a showplace, but a home. That's beauty.
I want my kids to have homes with pieces of me in them, too. I made a pledge to myself that they would each have a baker's dozen of afghans and/or quilts by the time they marry. So much crocheting left to be done! Of course, they're not allowed to get married till they're 30 anyway, so I have plenty of time.
