So back to difficult situations and knitting.
My son is on a liver transplant list. He has been fighting his disease for over 2 decades now and yet he is so young. Thirty-four. Not fun, unfair, sad beyond words. I weep. I pray. I put it out of my mind. I can't get it out of my mind. It becomes my mind. I have no mind. I am finding the point. I am missing the point. He is better. He is worse. Dr's are miracle workers. Dr's know nothing. Prayer helps, Prayer frustrates me. I can't pray, all I do is pray. I am on my knees. I am mad. I am handing it over...no I am taking it back. I am a mother.
|Ross at 24|
I grew up with sheep. My brother Ross raised sheep. My mother's oldest son and he died so young at twenty-four. My oldest son trying so hard not to die young.
Sheep, wool, knitting, mothers, children, prayer, projects, desire, love, things that fill my life and clutter my mind. I am doing my best in this mess. My best is not enough. The wool is lying slack in my hands with metal needles all akimbo. My son in a hospital. My son on a list. Far away in the north. My prayers sent into the abyss.
I picked up the Acrylic yarn from Goodwill and began to make a prayer shawl. K3P3, and the opposite on the returns. Father, Son, Holy Ghost. The Best of a Mess. Prayer.