Knitting is a nervous habit that happens to be productive. It helped me quit smoking by giving my hands something else to do. It is wonderful for depression because no matter what else happens, you are creating something beautiful. Time spent in front of the television or just sitting is no longer time wasted.
I love breathing life into the patterns. Its true magic, finding a neglected, dog-eared old book with the perfect snowflake design, buying the same Germantown knitting worsted my grandmother used, in the exact blue to match my daughters eyes, taking it on the train with me every day for two months, working feverishly to get it done by Christmas, staying up late after the stocking are filled to sew in the sleeves and weave in the ends.
Knitting has taught me patience. I know that if I just keep going, even if it takes months, there will be a reward. When I make a mistake, I know that a temper tantrum will not fix it, that I just have to go back and take out the stitches between and start over again.
People often ask if I would do it for money, and the answer is always a definite no. In the first place, you could not pay me though for the hours I put into a sweater. But more important, this is an activity I keep separate from such considerations. I knit to cover my children and other people I love in warmth and color. I knit to give them something earthly that money could never buy.
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