With spare moments and needles I've been stitching wool to make something simple for you.

Sometimes wool gets twisted, and sometimes stitches get lost, and sometimes I unravel everything just to start again.

And isn't that how it is sometimes?  Getting life twisted and sometimes losing the way, and all that has been set in place being pulled and unravelled by the same hands that stitched it together?

I hold the stitches up for you to see,  and you smile, and nod, and say, "Good job, Mama".

Words of encouragement, they say it's a love language, a way to show love and a way to feel loved.  You've been speaking these love words loud to this mama's heart, building her up, cheering her on.  How can I speak thanks?

I show you the backside where there's this unintended knot, and I can't explain how it got there, but it's there and it can't be fixed without the wrecking of it all.   You shrug and display that seven year smile and say, "It's okay, Mama."

And yes it is, and yes it has been.  All those unintended knots that can't be untied, but stay with us reminding us that imperfection is the humbleness of life, a way to go down lower while looking up higher.  

I keep on stitching, needle through wool, and row, upon row, upon row.  Spare moments turning into weeks and at last a fanciful gift is worn.

All the missed stitches and backsided knots somehow disappear in the glow of your smile.