The Lesson Of The Mittens
Here we are in March, a month that hints of spring out here on the high plains of Wyoming but can’t quite let go of winter. We’ve had another week of that very thing. The sun warms us up to 60 but by that evening temperatures plummet again 30 degrees and the snow falls and the wind blows. But soon…spring will win! So, until then we all carry our gloves and mittens in our pockets, we don’t think twice about it until something happens to open our eyes.
Sometimes a gem just falls in your lap. This story of mittens is one of those gems. Our Kath, who is our expert knitter here at the mill, was coming into work with her favorite mittens and they caught my eye. They were a bit worn and they looked like a crazy quilt with many different colors and shapes all pieced on…I said oh, those mittens sure look like they have a story to tell! Well, she proceeded to tell me a bit of the story and I said to please write that down.
So, she did and here it is…a gem!
” I found a worn place that developed a hole in my favorite mittens, the right one. Over a cup of coffee, I mended it as best as I could. Musing, I counted the darned places, patches, and various fixes. This fix was number 11.
The mittens are 29 years old. I remember when I first cast on to knit them, enroute from Nome to St Lawrence Island, somewhere over the Bering Sea. The mittens have a story, they’ve accompanied me hiking, hunting, chopping wood, hauling water. They followed me to Wyoming a year and a half ago. They’ve been repaired, re-knitted, patched, and darned multiple times. To me, they are worth keeping, worth fixing.
Maybe you can relate. Maybe you have something old of value that you hang onto and treasure. An old car, a piece of antique furniture, or a long-standing friendship or a marriage. Some things are worth fixing and keeping, their value increasing over time.
I know nothing lasts forever, and someday my old favorite mittens will be no more. There is, after all, a time to keep and a time to throw away. But for now, when I wear them, I’m reminded of the value of old things, their worth undiminished by the passage of time. I’m grateful for the lesson to hold dear those important things and people in my life.” by Kath
This was said so well and true that I knew we needed to share it. I’m sure we all have a “mitten” story or something like it that we can reflect on. Kath’s reflection brought to my mind one of my own mitten stories.
Years ago, as a young mother I read a book “Mitten strings for God - Reflections for mothers in a hurry”. With 7 young children it spoke volumes to me on slowing down and celebrating life’s quiet moments, remembering to pause and listen and fill your children’s souls. I cannot now recall what the mitten strings had to do with the book but maybe it was just about not losing the simple things.
I also had an old pair of mittens; they were not knit by me but given to me by a dear friend in high school after her trip to see family in Sweden. They were wool and so durable…they never wore out. They were a bit scratchy, but I used them all the time, they were the ones I reached for over and over again. My fingers stayed warm, and toasty tucked inside them. I finally repurposed those old mittens into stocking hats for the grandchildren's dolls, so they carry on.
That is my mitten story but as Kath said, “it is about more than mittens”. It’s about treasuring memories and people that are dear. So as spring comes and mittens are put away, don’t forget the lesson of the mittens.
What a wonderful story!
I have a muffler my Mom sent with me to College over 50 years ago. We’ve been to the shores of Lake Superior in winter. Skiing in Canada ,Colorado, the UP. Winter walks on the campuses in Wisconsin and Colorado.Countless winters enjoying winter. With a hug from my Mother every time!
I own a pair of woolen mittens knit for me by a family friend who had emigrated from Russia after the Bolshevik Revolution .
Tho childless, this couple brought over family members and put them through school. As a grade school-aged girl, I was fascinated to listen to them speak English perfectly, with a delightful accent. Anyway, the wife knit me a lovely pair of mittens, which I still own. A few years ago, I came across the pattern, from Eleanor Roosevelt! (No, I have never reproduced those mittens using ER’s pattern.) They remind me of very happy times.
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I own a pair of woolen mittens knit for me by a family friend who had emigrated from Russia after the Bolshevik Revolution .
Tho childless, this couple brought over family members and put them through school. As a grade school-aged girl, I was fascinated to listen to them speak English perfectly, with a delightful accent. Anyway, the wife knit me a lovely pair of mittens, which I still own. A few years ago, I came across the pattern, from Eleanor Roosevelt! (No, I have never reproduced those mittens using ER’s pattern.) They remind me of very happy times.
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I have a “mitten story”.
I learned to spin in 1988. The first skein of plied yarn I made was really uneven and just plain ugly. But,
my 9-year-old son said, " that is soft mom make me a hat." So, I did. It was a nice hat made out of ugly yarn but he loved it and it fit well. He wore that hat all the way through college and took it with him when he moved from Indiana to Houston Texas for his first job.
Now, no one needs a heavy ugly wool hat in Houston but he wore it when he thought he needed a hat. After years in Texas, he finally lost that hat. He was very upset and asked me to make him another. Unfortunately, I had by then become a fairly good spinner by then and could not make that same ugly skein again. So I spun some really nice Corriedale wool into a nice skein of plied yarn and knit him another hat. I told me it was “really nice, thanks, Mom, but I loved that old hat.” It was an important part of his childhood. I’m so glad I made that hat instead of throwing that ugly skein of yarn into a drawer. Its a fond memory for both of us.
Your wonderful stories make my heart smile.
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