Ah, yes, Christmas. That joyful time of year when kids try to be on their best behavior, when not pulling their frustrated and tired parents through store after store demanding things that Santa can bring them.
Watching snow fall, sitting in front of a merrily crackling fire (on DVD), eating too much and deciding the calories consumed on holidays don’t actually count.
Spending time with people you love but don’t really know very well, spending time with people you can’t stand but must because they are related to you.
Wrapping gifts made with my own two hands. This is a big deal for me, and one I hope the giftees in my life appreciate. Not the wrapping necessarily, because I am a big fan of the gift bag and tissue paper route, but the making of things.
I start in October or November, and I don’t stop until the last person on my list has something that I think fits their personality or their attitudes.
This is very special to me, because I put a lot of time and effort into making things. More than that, I put my heart and my love into crocheting the right thing for the right person.
This love affair is not easy to explain to most people, because most people simply don’t understand the need I have to make. To create. To pour a little bit of my soul into a yarn and crooked stick to cause something new to come into being.
And Christmas gives me a huge excuse to make a bunch of stuff, particularly stuff I want to make but don’t want to keep. My friends give me the excuse to make beautiful or silly or weird things that I don’t have room for or the inclination to keep for myself.
I can’t really explain the pride I feel when I walk into the inlaw’s house and see her mom wearing the socks I gave her last year, or when I see a very special baby wearing an Owl hat that I was asked to make for him.
I love being asked if I can make something, and saying, “Well, of course, I can,” particularly when the person asking starts with “I don’t know if you can crochet it, but…”
But I’m getting to be more selective about who I will hook for. I won’t just make something for someone because they ask. Even if they are willing to pay me. That’s too much like being in the business of making things, and that zaps all of the fun out of it for me.
I won’t crochet for anyone who doesn’t seem to appreciate the work and the love that goes into something. I create because it makes me whole and well and not a little un-crazy. But I can’t give something of myself to someone who tosses the creation aside.
I love giving something to someone whose eyes light up when they receive a gift. I love making things for people I love. And I love making things for people who love me back.
Because something made by hand is a part of the maker. I’ve been crocheting since I was 12 years old. I’m really quite handy at it. I’ve crocheted things that boggle even my mind. I’m not bragging, but I’m very proud of the work I do and the time and care I take with it.
So if someone gives you something handmade this year for your self-chosen Holiday experience, remember: they are giving you a piece of their heart. Treasure it. Use it. Wear it. Display it. Unless it’s something inappropriate for Grandma to see.
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