The Pea Soup Hat
Sometimes I crochet stuff I have no use for whatsoever because I listen to what the yarn tells me it wants to be.
You know, like half a dozen baby blankets or three Christmas tree skirts. Who ever needs THREE Christmas tree skirts?
In those cases, I either give the items to charity or hold onto them until the Universe tells me who the items belong to.
Last fall, I came into possession of some of the ugliest green yarn I'd ever seen. Its color was something between neon and pea with flecks of orange. It was thick and fluffy and of a material that matched no yarn I already had, so it wasn't going to be part of a bigger project. It was going to be something all on its own. What it finally became was a hat.
A big, fluffy, orange-flecked green hat.
But, that wasn't good enough. I trimmed it with the remnants of some fluffy orange yarn to accent the flecks.
I threw it in my "finished projects" drawer wondering who in the world would ever want such a hideous looking hat. And I forgot about it.
Then came the first Sunday of January.
Snowy, frigid. Roads nearly impassable. When the Ack!Thbbbt! family arrived at church, we doubled the attendance. One of the few congregants present was the pastor's wife.
She wore a beautiful, warm, comfortable green sweater. A kind of green halfway between neon and pea. With orange flecks.
Noted.
When we got home, I wrapped the hat in a gift bag, and waited just one day for the church ladies dinner Monday night.
I explained to the pastor's wife how I make things and wait to find out who owns them.
"When I saw you Sunday morning, I knew this was yours."
We both held our breath while she opened the bag.
You know she loved it.
Funny how when I made that hat it was ugly, but once its purpose was shown, it became beautiful.
You know, like half a dozen baby blankets or three Christmas tree skirts. Who ever needs THREE Christmas tree skirts?
In those cases, I either give the items to charity or hold onto them until the Universe tells me who the items belong to.
Last fall, I came into possession of some of the ugliest green yarn I'd ever seen. Its color was something between neon and pea with flecks of orange. It was thick and fluffy and of a material that matched no yarn I already had, so it wasn't going to be part of a bigger project. It was going to be something all on its own. What it finally became was a hat.
A big, fluffy, orange-flecked green hat.
But, that wasn't good enough. I trimmed it with the remnants of some fluffy orange yarn to accent the flecks.
I threw it in my "finished projects" drawer wondering who in the world would ever want such a hideous looking hat. And I forgot about it.
Then came the first Sunday of January.
Snowy, frigid. Roads nearly impassable. When the Ack!Thbbbt! family arrived at church, we doubled the attendance. One of the few congregants present was the pastor's wife.
She wore a beautiful, warm, comfortable green sweater. A kind of green halfway between neon and pea. With orange flecks.
Noted.
When we got home, I wrapped the hat in a gift bag, and waited just one day for the church ladies dinner Monday night.
I explained to the pastor's wife how I make things and wait to find out who owns them.
"When I saw you Sunday morning, I knew this was yours."
We both held our breath while she opened the bag.
You know she loved it.
Funny how when I made that hat it was ugly, but once its purpose was shown, it became beautiful.
5 comments:
Know those feelings.
Miss Em
You rock, Miss Roses.
That's all.
Roses, you're getting "spooky."
Just sayin'...
Seriously, many of your posts in this last 6 months or so have caused me to ponder "why" I felt an urge to do something, or "what" I had in mind when I did some random act.
Good grass for chewing. Thanks.
Of course, you do know there's an alternative explanation for why your pastor's wife was thrilled to receive that green and orange knit hat: Typically, the wives of starving pastors aren't very picky. But I'm with you on this one -- it was a God thing.
Thank you for this post. I 'get' it.
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