Jan. 19, 2023
Have you ever had a project that sat…and sat for way too long? What you see above is a project I started somewhere around 2007-2008. I was curious about rug hooking. My sister in law had made some beautiful creations rug hooking. And so, I stopped into the local store and they must’ve seen sucker or $$ written on my forehead. For, I received the most basic instructions and walked out with not a small sum worth of supplies and a rug that was essentially 2’ X 3’. A commitment of sorts. I was up for the challenge. Heck, the first project I ever knit (after I taught myself to knit in college with a $0.69 skein of puke green yarn and some needles) was a mohair sweater with cabling. I have a bit of a history for jumping in at times. And so began my relationship with rug hooking. I envisioned making friends with the women at the shop and really getting into ‘hooking’. Within a month or so, they were out of business and gone. There went my go to for questions. I continued to hook. The fall of ‘08, I hurt my back a second time. I’d already had one surgery and was trying to prevent a second. I was relegated to the floor of a condo my husband and I had rented to vacation for a month, or our bed. I crawled to the bathroom. My husband fed me on the floor, usually scrambled eggs for breakfast and pizza for dinner. Two things relatively easy to push into your mouth from a laying down position. Being allergic to Vicodin, I was given Percocet. In my boredom, I asked my husband to get me my rug hooking. I had to use the time somehow. I couldn’t really read and I don’t believe podcasts were a thing back then. And, so I continued to hook my rug. I worked on the bunny with my knees bent up, the hooking frame propped up against them and did my best. It was put to the side while I had my second surgery. When I finally picked it up again, well…let’s just say, it looked like a Percocet bunny. What I couldn’t see or didn’t care about at the time in my drug induced state, was the absolute mess of a bunny I’d made. In rug hooking, each loop brought up from behind the linen is to be the same height throughout the entire work. It’s a bit of a chore, but you get into a rhythm. I had not had any type of rhythm that was of any benefit to my project lying on the floor in pain all those years ago. I was devastated and couldn’t bear the thought of ripping out hours of work. So, it was put down, relegated to the back of a closet for another day. Occasionally I would think of that rug and would just lament over what to do. I couldn’t bear the ripping apart to make it ‘right’ and I couldn’t bring myself to leave it so imperfect. I rarely if ever hit perfection, though I’ll aim for it. But known imperfection? No, can’t do it, unless whatever it is, is of no real consequence to me. But, this was of consequence. Others would eventually see it. My flawed piece on public display. My ego prevented me from continuing with it as it was.
A lot happens in 15 years. People come and go. Careers change. Ideas are formed and hammered out. New ones take shape. Old ones are tossed aside for more ‘enlightened’ ideas. One might say your philosophy of life changes. For me, a lot changed. Our home base changed. We moved from a city in the midwest, of which I never felt like I fit in. Summers were unbearably hot and humid. It never made sense to me to be inside in what were some of the most beautiful months of the year. I’d grown up in RI surrounded by the ocean. Always able to cool off if it got too hot. Friends were hard to come by in this new to me city. It’s strange how cultures can be so different in different locales within our country, but it is definitely so. We eventually moved to a beautiful spot in Wisconsin on Lake Michigan. Here there is quiet in the surrounding beauty. The winters hold a special place in my heart. The cold, the snow, the bright blue sky on a frigid day is like nothing else I’ve experienced. It’s a beauty unto itself. The summers are equally intoxicating with the scents and smells of the pine woods we live in. When the pine needle carpet is warmed by the sun, I am transported somewhere magical. Here, my senses come alive. I slow down to listen and watch. The playfulness of the crows overhead, the frantic scurrying of untold numbers of squirrels, the lazy saunter of the deer through the woods. It’s stunning to me. That’s not found in a city. I know people love cities. Nothing against them. Just not my cup of tea. I find it hard to be my true self surrounded by so much concrete and hustle and bustle. Here, I am the truest version of myself. Nature speaks to me. It fills my soul. I see God’s hand in every aspect of it. I am closest to Him outside then anywhere else. I am led to worship as I watch the snow accumulate on the dark brown branches, hear the chattering of the birds calling to one another, listening to the snowfall. Have you ever heard snow fall? It’s one of my favorite sounds. Right up there with the rainfall on a dark night, the sound coming through our open bedroom window as I lay awake listening. Lulled back to sleep with the surety that all is well outside. Everything as it should be.
I believe it has been these moments that have changed me. Everything is as it should be. There are cycles to life. There is new growth, beautiful shows of colors and produce followed by decay and sometimes death. Other times, a sort of slumber. They are all a part of life. They each mean something. They each have value. It’s not for us to judge the growth, the decay, the death, the slumber. It just is. It’s part of it. Without it, life would not have as much meaning. Without the growth, we wouldn’t have the leaves that shade us, then present us with beautiful paintings of color in Autumn, followed by the decay of leaves providing nourishment to all things below, then the slumber until next spring. Each stage is impactful, meaningful, beautiful in its own right.
And so, I picked up my rug last winter determined to finish it. I decided life and all I do in it is not perfect. Just ask my kids and husband. Life is messy sometimes. I’ve hurt people I love. I’ve made mistakes. Big ones. But, I continue to get up and keep plugging along. We only have this one life. That’s it. The Bible tells us it’s but a vapor. How true. We have things we can’t go back and change. Decisions made. Consequences securely in place. It’s this amazingly wonderful thing called life. It stretches us, refines us. Every day we have choices. Every damn day. I hope you choose to pull out whatever it is stashed away in the back of a closet that you put there because you didn’t know how to proceed. Maybe it’s a fractured relationship. Maybe it’s a job you’re dying to go after but too afraid. Maybe it’s a different body. Maybe it’s a new talent you want to hone. Pull it out, accept the imperfections and still create something beautiful despite them.
When I shared my finished rug (albeit needing to be bound) with the first few people, it was my son who commented that someone wise once said, “We always want to be able to make the third pancake as our first. But, we need to accept that there will always be a first and second pancake we fail at.” So, I present to you, my first pancake.
Pam, seriously you have a gift. Love it!!! Keep sharing.
❤️🥰🥰