Welcome to Grannie Mercy Knits!

Hello, again, Stitchers!  As promised, here’s Part 2.  If you missed the first part, CLICK HERE.

Mindfulness and Relaxation in Knitting

Whenever life gets too loud, I turn to my trusty knitting needles—my own personal Zen masters. There’s something about the rhythmic clicking and the soft yarn slipping through my fingers that helps mute the chaos of the day. It’s like each stitch is a tiny Zen garden raked right into my brain, bringing calm and order.

Settling into my favorite chair with a knitting project is my version of a mental retreat. As I knit, it feels like I’m stitching away the stress. The repetitive motion is almost hypnotic, and I find that the worries of the day begin to unravel with each row. You know you’re into it when you start thinking of your knitting time as a spa day for your psyche.

Knitting demands just enough attention to keep you in the present—too little and your mind wanders, too much and it becomes another source of stress. It’s a delicate balance, like trying to walk a yarn tightrope. But when you get it right, it’s magical.

I’ve discovered that the therapeutic magic of knitting isn’t just in the act itself but also in the results. Creating something from scratch—be it a quirky hat or a cozy blanket—leaves me with a buzz of accomplishment. It’s not every day you can say, “Hey, I made this!” Especially if, like me, your first few attempts were more suitable for a modern art gallery of abstract mishaps than actual use.

So, whether you’re knitting your first scarf or your hundredth blanket, those needles offer more than just a way to pass time. They’re a ticket to a quieter, more centered state of mind. Trust me, once you get the hang of it, you’ll be knitting your way to peace one purl at a time.

Problem-Solving Skills

Knitting has transformed me into a bit of a problem-solver, and not just in the realm of tangled yarns and dropped stitches. Every knitter knows the heart-stopping moment when you spot a mistake several rows back. It’s like realizing you left your coffee on the roof of your car… after you start driving. But instead of just shrugging it off, you learn to dive back into the fray, armed with crochet hooks and sheer willpower, to rescue the rogue stitch.

The first time I dropped a stitch, I thought my knitting career was over. I stared in horror as that little loop threatened the integrity of an entire scarf. It felt like watching a horror movie, where you scream at the character to not open that door! But with knitting, you can’t just cover your eyes and hope for the best. You’ve got to face the horror. So, I learned to pick up my dropped stitches, a skill that felt like defusing a bomb with a toothpick.

This knack for troubleshooting in knitting spills over into everyday life, too. Once you’ve navigated the complex world of S2KP2, M1rp, and ksp,  what’s a little household DIY or tech trouble? Last week, I fixed my jammed printer with the confidence of a seasoned knitter. Turns out, a little patience and the ability to follow convoluted paths (much like those in knitting patterns) can come in handy beyond the craft table. Who knew?=

And let’s not forget about those moments when life drops a stitch on you—missing a crucial email, forgetting an anniversary, or losing your keys. Just like with knitting, I’ve learned to stay calm, assess the situation, and methodically work my way back to where things went awry. It’s about picking up the dropped stitches of your day with grace and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of humor.

So, whether I’m rescuing a sweater from a near disaster or salvaging a dinner that’s gone sideways, the problem-solving skills I’ve developed from knitting keep me cool under pressure–usually! It turns out, those needles are good for more than just making clothes—they’re also tools for crafting a more capable, calm, and collected me.

The Joy of Giving

There’s something truly magical about giving a gift that you’ve made with your own two hands. The process of knitting gifts for friends and family isn’t just about crafting something beautiful; it’s about weaving a little piece of your heart into each stitch. Every time I gift a handmade item, it feels like I’m giving a part of myself—a tangible expression of love and care.

One of my most memorable pieces was a chunky, steel gray beanie. This was very, very early in my knitting career. My tension was a bit erratic, the “pattern” was no pattern at all. After hours of knitting, unraveling, and re-knitting—because perfection is a tricky beast—the beanie was finally finished. It was actually not perfect, though I tried. It kind of reminded me of that character “Dumb Donald” from Fat Albert (did I just date myself?) 

[*Disclaimer: That was the character’s name. I didn’t make it up. I don’t call people names. Since it was a cartoon character, “he” didn’t actually exist, so “he” was not traumatized. It is what it was. Don’t take it out on me!]

I remember finishing the dang thing and with the last stitch finally cast off, I wanted to cry. Or scream. Or stamp my feet–or something. It was pretty awful. But just then, something incredible happened. One of my sons who was a young teen at the time came into the room and saw it and told me it was pretty cool! He loved that I actually made it. He asked who it was for and I told him the trash bin. “No way! I want it!” he insisted.

He plopped it on his head and grinned from ear to ear.  Now, I’ll be honest, to this day I’m not so sure that I believe he liked it for itself. His eyes worked fine and he had to notice how it sat on his head. But, I made it and he loved it. He wore it everyday, even in the summer (I live in Texas and that means on 100º plus days!) He valued it because it was completely unique (to say the least!) , was handmade by me, and it had my time and effort stitched right into it. 

That day we gave each other a gift. He gifted me with respect for my craft, for the effort that went into it and the uniqueness of the beanie. He reminded me to value things for what they represent and not solely for aesthetics or monetary value.

I gave him a beanie that held within its stitches, love, time, dedication, and perseverance–even if it was objectively unattractive!. 

This experience, like many others, underscores the unique joy of giving and receiving something handmade. It’s not just about the physical item; it’s about the time, effort, and love that goes into making it. These gifts carry stories and emotions that no store-bought item could ever convey. They say, “I cared enough to spend hours making this just for you,” and that message, crafted in yarn, can be more valuable than the most expensive gift off the shelf. While this particular hat did not start with those intentions, they were there, hidden in the ugliness. 

Kind of reminds me of the pathetic little tree in Charlie Brown’s Christmas. That tree was awful, until it was loved.

So, whether it’s a birthday, holiday, or just because, a knitted gift is a special way to show someone you care. It’s a joyous celebration of giving, not just of the item itself, but of sharing a piece of your creative spirit. And isn’t that what makes a gift truly memorable?

Connecting with Community

In a previous post, I mentioned that long before Ravelry became the go-to and YouTube was awash with how-to-knit videos, I threw my hat into the blogging ring. Yep, about 20 years ago I started a knitting blog. Along with a bunch of other intrepid knitters, we stitched together a worldwide community. Sure, I’ve been part of local knitting circles, and they were great fun while they lasted, but like some mystery novels, they tended to end abruptly. But isn’t it amazing that blogs from back in the day are still going strong, and new ones keep popping up? Whether I’m actively typing away or just quietly scrolling through a fellow knitters posts, this community always feels like coming home.

I really like creating community through teaching others. Teaching knitting has been a real highlight for me. There’s nothing quite like the joy of helping someone land their first knit stitch or cast off their first project. I’ve taught a whole parade of kids (and their moms!), and it’s always a hoot. Most of them get the hang of it, while a few get utterly hooked, turning into veritable knit gurus. It’s a wonderful reminder of my own journey and a great way to give back to the community that has brought so much warmth (both literally and metaphorically) into my life.

All in all, this community isn’t just about crafting lovely garments—it’s about knitting together lasting relationships, preserving a beloved art, and creating a supportive space that enriches all of us.

And what of you, lovely Stitchers? What have you learned from knitting? I’d love to hear it, whether it’s a practical lesson or more esoteric, I value what you have learned.