When you've been knitting consistently for eight years, there are certain things that become unnecessary. Like looking at what you're doing. Or concentrating. Or panicking.
One of the funniest things is when someone sees me start a project, and then sees me undo the whole thing when I want something different, or tear out a few rows to change up the pattern. Their eyes get big, and it typically goes like this:
"Didn't you just start that?" they'll exclaim.
"I didn't like it. It didn't look quite right."
"But it was beautiful!"
"I'm gonna make it better."
Because what's the point of making something that isn't the most beautiful it could be?
Maybe that's why I love knitting. It's busyness, it's creativity, and it's not permanent. I can literally make any mistake I want and it will still turn out beautifully.
I can tweak everything, cut anything, start over...but I'll always be able to fix it.
Sometimes it'd be nice if life were like that. Sometimes it'd be nice to have the ability to reconnect cut strings or undo the last two rows...or ten years... or ten words...
But then again, life is a lot like knitting. The only difference? Someone else is doing the knitting while I make all the mistakes. There are a lot of broken things in my life from these past months, and a lot of things I wish I could unravel and re-stitch. But I really don't have to worry about how all my mistakes and broken ties and chopped stitches are gonna look because my life is being constantly crafted by a Master Knitter who can literally fix, re-stitch or start over anything.
I understand, sort of, why my friends freak out when I rip out stitches. It's because they can't see the finished project in their heads like I can. And that's why I freak out when I feel like the stitches of my life are being ripped out because I can't see the finished project in my head like He can.
Because He can. And it's beautiful.