My mom was a knitter.
But she was a rather reluctant and not-very-confident knitter. Mostly because she was afraid of making mistakes and wasn't sure how to fix them -- and she had no one around to show her how.
Still, she persisted. She knit my sister and I little red cardigans when we were little girls. (I still have mine; cables down the front.) She also knit us little hats that tied under our chins. And she was the Queen of the Ripple Afghan.
And . . . she taught me to knit.
As I became a better knitter - and especially as I became adept at fixing knitting goofs - my mom got a little braver with her needles. She mastered socks and mittens, all the while keeping us supplied with a never-ending stock of dish cloths.
But what she really wanted to knit? Baby afghans!
About ten years ago - back when my kids were still in high school - my mom decided to knit baby afghans for her future great grandchildren.
She wanted to be ready, you see. She had three grandchildren - and she wanted to be able to give each of them a handknit baby afghan whenever - and if ever - they had a child of their own.
First, she knit the yellow blanket. For her oldest granddaughter -- my sister's daughter.
Then, she knit the variegated blanket. For Erin.
And, finally, she knit the little aqua blanket. For Brian.
Then, she packed them away. She just wanted to be ready for . . . whenever the time came.
Now, I have my mom's afghans. Packed away safely and ready to distribute . . . when (and if ever) the time comes.
It's really comforting for me to know . . . that even though my mom will never be able to hold those future great grandchildren in her arms, those future great grandchildren will still be wrapped in her love.
(The power of knitting.)
(The power of Moms.)
Happy Mother's Day!