Ravels

 

I heard her answer the phone from the other room.

“Hello.” I could only hear one side of the conversation.

“I’m crocheting a blanket.”

“For the homeless.”

It hit me, how she said it so nonchalant; like she was just reading a book, or watching TV, or doing the dishes, like it was just some normal, mundane, everyday routine.

Then it hit me, for her, it was. It is.

She gets up when it’s still the middle of the night for most people. She sits alone, weaving her fingers and a little needle back and forth millions of times, hour after hour, day after day, week after week.

And then, what really hits me, is when for some microscopic reason, she thinks it’s off a fraction of a hair from perfect. She unravels it. Sometimes all of it, other times just a portion. I figure for her to make one, she probably crochets three, for all the unraveling she does.

I’m thinking her new nickname ought to be, “Ravels.”

I think she’s too picky. But she figures it’s got to look right. “Just because they’re homeless or going through a rough spot, doesn’t mean they don’t want nice things.”

Sometimes when her fingers get sore, and tired, she takes a break, but before too long, she’s back at it again. She doesn’t make a penny, or get any recognition, she just does it, day in, day out. The person who receives it, doesn’t even know her name.   

That’s just one thing, of the million things, like testing my patience, by taking too long in the grocery store, because she checking off the entire, Needs List, for the local shelter. Like answering the phone, even when it’s late, even when she’s tired, because someone needs to talk. Like helping the neighbor put on his socks when he just wasn’t able. All that, and more, much more, she does, just because.

I know she wouldn’t want me to bring attention to her, or even mention her name; so, we’ll just call her Ravels. And for now, that’s okay.

But one day, I know, Some One, who notices every stich, will look at dear sweet Ravels, and say, “Come you, blessed of My Father, inherit the Kingdom; for I was hungry and you fed Me, thirsty and you gave Me drink—” then, He will pause and smile and look straight in her eyes and say, “I was cold, and you made Me a blanket.”

Happy Birthday Ravels, I love you.