The Holiness of the Humble
They wear out, and eventually must be thrown away.
I've spent a lot of time lately knitting socks.
I've not been in much of a mood for anything else,
and that's ok.
Socks are impermanent.
They wear out, and eventually must be thrown away.
It's just their nature.
For me, they are also mindless knitting.
Round, and around, and around, and around.
I've made so many pair that I barely have to pay attention.
Socks are not as showy as lace.
Nor are they worn as obviously as a sweater.
Most people never notice that I'm wearing handknit socks.
Thus...they are, for me, the most humble of handknits.
And I am grateful for that.
For the humble allows my mind to let go and soar free.
The humble comforts the needlful heart.
The humble connects me to generation upon generation of knitters who've gone before.
For me, sock knitting is a sacred space.
One I will return to again...
and again...
and again.
Amen.
My most recent pair...yet another pair of Opal socks for myself.
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