The Mother's Day Project

Noah's mother passed away a few months ago.  She had suffered from dementia for many years and, near the end, was unable to communicate.  However, the stories I heard about her at the funeral painted the portrait of a vivacious, lovely woman who was loved by her friends, family and most importantly, her children.  So when Noah called me a few days ago with an unusual request, I couldn't help but offer whatever assistance I could.  A scarf his

mum had knitted for him just prior to the onset and stranglehold of her disease, had become inflicted by all sorts of fibre maladies. Moth-eaten gaping holes, laddering, and various other issues (including a washing machine's destructive spin cycle) had beaten down this hand-knit fabric from its former glory. 

Could I fix it? - he asked. 
Could I fix it? - I wondered.

It was a massive responsibility I was undertaking.
But I absolutely understood, it would be a huge honour.  

When you knit your child a scarf, sweater, hat or even a pair of socks, the gift that results is a physical testament of your undying love. Stitch by stitch, this scarf was the evidence of the unconditional love Noah's mother felt for her son. 

Could I fix it? 
I had no choice. 
I had to fix it. 

The only proposal I felt comfortable offering Noah was that I was pretty certain I could make it look better, however, it would never look as it did when it was new. Still, I knew I had to try. It would be my way of honouring a fellow knitter and mother this Mother's Day weekend.

Rather than knitting, more than anything it was an act of sewing, crocheting and picking mystery-matter out the fibre that I undertook.  Indeed, at one point I wondered if Noah had tried to kosher the scarf by throwing it into his backyard. Still, I was committed to the idea of saving the scarf, in part because I was a both a knitter and a mother myself. Yarn has a memory and woven into those knitted loops was Noah's mother's labour of love.  

Also, as a mother who was asked to read Phoebe Gillman's "Something from Nothing" countless times to my children over the years, I knew, it is indeed possible to transform a piece of material without losing the beloved tenderness with which it is imbued.

After a couple of evenings of intense mending/grafting and a bit of prayer: success! Or rather... moderate success. The scarf's 'air-conditioned' quality is gone, but its linear rhythm is forever awry. Still for me it remains a success story. I am indeed the shneider's tochter and I was able to create:

עפּעס פון גאָרנישט

I hope Noah likes it, and it brings him some comfort.