I like this time of year. I enjoy being cold; it makes such
a great change from the 110° heat. I can always put more clothes on, but I
cannot always take enough off. Besides, I love cuddling under a blanket and/or
duvet with a purring cat next to me. I’ve been sleeping much better since all
this started, and I love that too.
It’s also a great time for knitting. My hands don’t sweat as
I work the yarn, and my fingers don’t slip off the needles, sometimes taking
some stitches with me. My color scheme changes a bit with the change of season,
and I tend to use more autumnal colors than in spring and summer, but now and
again, something comes up that makes me change my schemes. One is if someone I
know is having a baby and, perhaps, knows the gender of the said baby ahead of
time. I think every knitter should have a baby to knit for now and then – or maybe
a sailor, a preemie, an abandoned child, a chronically ill person, or a senior.
Somehow, though, babies are the most fun.
A friend asked me to make a blanket for an impending baby boy,
the son of a friend of theirs. I found some lovely yarn – a three-ply yarn with
two strands of white and one of a very pronounced baby blue. And so I set
forth.
It knit up so soft and cuddly in a pale shade of blue all
over. Up close, though, I could see definite strands of white and blue twisted
together. The blend softened the brighter blue, and the white gave it a
cloud-like appearance. They were different strands, but they melded together
just perfectly.
I started to think about diversity and how it played into my
knitting. Then I widened my view a bit. If I viewed a crowd from a very high
altitude, I doubt I could pick out people of various races, cultures, and such,
much as I couldn’t pick out the shades of yarn I was using. But up close, that
all changed.
There are all kinds of people who make up who I walk next to
or face as I walk down the street. Some stand out, perhaps because they are smiling,
laughing, or wearing something bright and colorful. Others blend into the background
as if they are hiding or prefer a more somber way of dressing. Some speak
English, others Spanish, but now and again, I hear German or one of the Asian languages.
It reminds me of riding the city busses in Washington, DC, when I visited
there. It was such a wonderful place to people-watch and hear various tongues
even if I didn’t understand them. Like the blanket yarn, each person stuck out
in their own particular way, yet blended together in the great blanket of
humanity.
Who sits in your church pews? With whom do you share office
space? Who plays on your child’s soccer team? Who is your doctor? What about
the clerk in the store you patronize? Do they all look like you? Do they speak
the same language as you? Are their meals reflective of a culture unfamiliar to
you, or perhaps a dish you always order at a restaurant? Do you see others as
different than you, or are they just part of the makeup of a world where you
live and move and have your being?
Diversity is like going to a yarn shop and enjoying all the available
colors, combinations and weights. Riding the bus in DC was an exercise in the
same kind of experience. Now I know the conglomeration of different people in
Walmart, a yarn shop, the car wash, the church, or the golf course. I can
appreciate them as being as different as snowflakes, yet all coming together to
make drifts and snowmen.
Above all, I give thanks to God for all the diversity in the
world. Without it, it would be a very dull place.
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