A Woman, Knitting & A Life Recovered

This month I have a guest blogger, Robyn Brickner, who shares her powerful, heartfelt story of finding peace after the shocking and tragic death of her beloved husband. Her story is touching to the core.

Here is Robyn's story:

On the most picture perfect January day, my life was forever altered.  I drove my husband to the airport for a 6:30 AM flight, kissed him good bye, told him I loved him and asked that he call when he arrived at his destination.  He traveled so much I didn’t keep up with what airline he was flying, where he was going or staying.  I just wanted to know he was safe and when he would be home.  That was the day he never came home.  His flight crashed on takeoff and he and 20 others were killed on impact, just three hours after I had last touched him.

The hours, the days, and the months that followed became a jumbled mess in my head.  I couldn’t remember anything, I couldn’t focus, I couldn’t sleep or eat.  I walked around wondering how the whole world functioned as nothing made sense to me.

God and I never got sideways with each other over what I didn’t understand.  He was most certainly my biggest supporter and greatest strength, yet for some reason He couldn’t seem to help me get my act together.  And then, He did.  Whether you believe it divine, or not, I most certainly believe that God took me by the hand and led me to what would become a love of knitting.  Yes, you read that correctly, knitting.  How is it that knit one, purl two can heal the soul, well, I’m here to tell you.

In one of my darkest days a dear friend appeared with a skein of yarn, a set of needles, and an article about a woman, knitting and a life recovered.  I read, I wept and I’ve never stopped knitting.  How I wish I had saved the first pitiful thing I ever made for it was as pitiful as I was then.

In addition to yarn and needles, knitting requires the ability to sit quietly, the coordination of hands, eyes and mind, and the desire to make something out of nothing. 

My dear friend taught me just enough to let me begin knitting.  It was once she left and I sat alone with my yarn and my needles and, oh so slowly, began to repeat everything that she had shown me that I became lost in the repetition in the act of knitting.  My mind engaged as it hadn’t in months, my hands, while unsure, uncomfortable and unsteady continued to repeat what I had been taught.  I knew for certain that what I was making was not a scarf, but the beginning of something I didn’t totally understand.   It looked terrible and I felt different.   I felt something in my chest that was truly foreign to me.  Over time I came to learn that the foreign feeling was calm and peace.

I immediately sought out a knitting store, signed up for classes, bought all the things every knitter should have, and began a love affair with yarn.  I spent hours at home knitting.  What I thought would be a quick 30 minutes of knitting turned into an entire afternoon.  I found that I was only at peace when knitting.  What I learned was that the knitting quieted my mind and soul.  Knitting allowed me to shut off my thoughts and just, be.

While the early days of knitting required great focus and concentration, it was in that focus and concentration that I was my most peaceful.  It seemed as if the coordination of my hands, eyes and mind  put me in a meditative place.   I have actually come to learn that there is all kinds of research to support what I didn’t know or understand.  The research involves rapid eye movement and some chemical released in the brain,  blah, blah, blah.  All I knew was when I was knitting, I felt better.  My mind didn’t race, my heart didn’t ache.  I’m not saying knitting cured a broken life, but it allowed me to find a place that could make healing possible. 

I’ve never been able to sit still, never made it through a movie night at home without falling asleep on the couch, never waited patiently in a doctor’s office until knitting became part of who I am.  Knitting has made me still.  Still in the sense that I am quite, and quiet in the sense that I am able to hear my soul tell me what it is I need.  So, I knit.   I’ve made a lot of really crappy looking things with lots of mistakes, but I don’t care.  I knit because I have to.  I knit because I know God’s hands led my hands to where I am today;  happy, grateful, and  loved, but mostly I’m at peace with my past and my present.

Robyn Brickner


Leta Bell can be reached at www.LetaBell.com