Peace in the hearts of others - stitch by stitch

Peace. This is one of those powerful words that conjures images of global change and personal inner tranquility at the same time.

Just as strife, peace comes from as many directions as there are stars in the night sky. Peace can emerge from one’s inner self, from God, or come from others. No matter the source of peace, the very sound of the word calms and strengthens the soul. If the Earth had a heartbeat, it would come from those who give their talents to promote calm and peace.

Last week, I came across the book Knitting for Peace: Make the world a better place one stitch at a time by Betty Christiansen. This book catalogues an American history of knitters who work their fingers to donate for the greater good in this world.

While others have donated so much more than I, knitting for others is not a strange concept for me. Back in Tennessee, my church sponsored a group to knit prayer shawls for the elderly, and those affected by tragedy. The concept behind the shawls is to pray for the unknown recipient as the fibers weave through the knitters fingers, to ultimately wrap a person in need with warmth, love, and prayers – hopefully this recipe produces a measure of peace.

I have knitted prayer shawls, and never, ever envisioned myself as receiving one, but last fall I actually received two – one from my church in Tennessee, and one from the church in Michigan. They really do help. Because I know the time and care that this artistry demands, I can wrap up and feel the warmth of the hands that worked to bring me peace. To knit a shawl takes many hours with each inch of the hundreds of yards of fiber held by the crafter’s hands and pulled from the skein, between the pinky and ring fingers, then to the needle from between the middle and pointer fingers. Hand knitting is a very personal and intimate process; when a knitter donates an item, he or she gives away heart.

For generations, Americans have “knitted for the boys.” I delighted in reading the accounts of knitting circles that organized during the Civil War, then in a much more refined way, during World Wars I and II. During the Civil War, women knitted socks and hats for soldiers. For many, these donated woolens were the only they had to keep their feet protected inside their boots, and heads warm under their helmets.

I delighted in the story one told from her childhood during WWII. She shares that as a third grader, children knitted for the war effort, both at school and in Girl Scouts. She recalls size 30 crochet thread, knitted on size 1 needles, 30 stitches on double-pointed needles in garter stitch. With those instructions and materials, children knitted miles of bandages. For those who are unfamiliar with the task, size 1 needles can only be described as teen-insey, and the project, monumental. That fact that she remembered the details from almost 60 years ago certainly impresses me. I like to muse on the soldiers who lived to return home to rich lives and produced families as a result of their wounds wrapped in bandages worked through the fingers of school children.

A touching story is the ongoing mission of teddy bears sent to children with HIV in South Africa –the Mother Bear Project – . Inspiration from this project came from Europeans during the dangerous days of WWII who would send their children away for safety. They would knit this same pattern of bear with a heart sewn in so the child would know he or she is loved. Each of today’s Mother Bear toys has a heart sewn on the front.

Of the dozens of stories in this book, I will most remember the story of Esperance Nyirarusimbi, a 25-year-old Rwandan genocide survivor. She lost her entire family and was left with no form of income. She was taught to machine knit on donated knitting machines. Not only does she sell her ponchos, but she travels around her country training other survivors like herself to generate income through knitting.

Peace comes in many forms and fashions, and my heart swells with calm when I think of the many generations of knitters who have, and still do, sit together in circles, alone by hearths, beside the cradle of a sleeping baby, knitting to bring serenity, warmth and peace within others.