Midweek reminder: Fix what you can

very day, problems exist. Most days, that information can sit there behind your left ear, just a quiet whisper. Other days, those problems/issues/concerns feel larger, and the whisper grows to a shout. Why is that? I can go along quite contentedly for some time (yes, say it, head in the sand--this week quite literally as we've put down almost two tons of sand with brick pavers), and then one thing or another will wake me up to the reality of issues that need solving, past actions and their corresponding regret, sadness for my own or others' pain (real and/or imagined)... you know, life.

I have found, more often than not, when that mindset creeps in, the single best thing I can do is get up and get something done. It is best if that something can be for someone else--a note, a prayer, a "helping hand," a smile. But I like practical solutions, and doing something tangible can make me pretty happy.

teddy

Last night, Seth was looking around for his Grandma blanket (the one my Grandma Kandt made for him that he uses on nights when his full comforter will be too hot) and it was downstairs. It was late, but mostly we were both too lazy to go down and get it. So we rummaged in the upstairs linen closet for an acceptable substitute.

I found (after getting Seth settled with an old quilt) an old crocheted blanket my mom made me sometime around 1984. I remember having it for sure when I left for boarding school the summer of 1984, but I probably had it at home a couple of years prior to that... And I remember Ma making it too, all the time and energy she put into it, and the border--I remember specifically watching and learning as she made the scallopy border. I loved that blanket and until it mysteriously disappeared during my senior year at boarding school, I always had it on my bed.

The summer of 1986, after I'd graduated high school, my mom and I were standing around at a church campmeeting in Hope, B.C., and we saw the girl's dean of that boarding school, across a common area. Over her arm was draped MY blanket. Oh wow. I don't think my mom hesitated for even one second. She recognized her handiwork! So, she marched over to the lady and said, "Where did you get that blanket?"  According to the dean, when the school year had ended and everyone had gone home, the blanket was found in a room. She didn't say whose room, or how she decided that meant the blanket would now be hers, but she also didn't argue and handed it over without any discussion. I remember meeting my mom's eyes over the dean's head in an agreed "this story sounds suspect," but we just said "Thanks for bringing the blanket back!" and went on our merry way.

The blanket did, however, now have a little hole in it. Not a big one, just enough to annoy me. I didn't use the blanket anymore, so as not to spread the damage, just put it away. And here we are, 25 years later (cough, sputter, that seems an outrageous amount of time), and I woke up this morning with the immediate need to Fix. That. Blanket.

I don't know how, but over the years the hole appears to have grown... I think laundering it after the campmeeting recovery might have contributed to that...

I had some off-white yarn that was very close to the weight and fiber makeup of the original, and luckily, my Ma and I were raised in the same crochet world, and the stitch was easy enough to mimic. I am hopeful that the new yarn will fuzz up softly like the old, and it will look seamless... over time...

See that scallopy bobble edge? I love that.

That felt good! Not every thing can be fixed as easily as that blanket, but it was one little thing that could be done, right now. I'm going to keep that sweet blanket out near our bed now, not tucked into a linen closet, and as a reminder of the little solveable obstacles in my way, each day.