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February 19, 2009

This Wonderful Life

A prayer with moving hands

Anonymous The Cooperstown Crier Thu Feb 19, 2009, 08:34 AM EST

Almost five years ago, when I was undergoing chemotherapy, my good friend and priest Teresa taught me to knit.

Teresa is an amazing knitter who can dash off a sweater in a darkened movie theater between exposition and denouement. I am not that kind of knitter, but I deeply appreciate the meditative qualities of a good knitting session.

In addition to teaching me to knit and purl, she also shared with me a book about a group of women who knitted prayer shawls for people diagnosed with cancer. Having been the beneficiary of afghans created by similarly philanthropic knitters and crocheters, I was instantly inspired by what this groupáwas doing.

Sometimes, when one of the knitters began a project, she knew who the recipient would be. Sometimes, a member would start a project, and while she was knitting, she would learn of someone who had received a diagnosis. Sometimes, the knitter would never know who would receive the shawl.

No matter. With every movement of the needles, these knitters imbued their projects with prayers for healing and serenity and love. When each project was complete, the entire group would pass it around and say a short prayer over it.

After learning about this prayer practice, I immediately went out and bought some very cozy, comforting chenille yarn and began a shawl project. I worked on it frequently, even while sitting in my oncologist’s clinic attached to an IV pole getting my own chemotherapy. Let’s just say the end result was, um, ``folksy.’’ In fact, my work was too crude to inflict upon someone who was undergoing treatment. It would have been insult to injury.

So I started another piece - not as a prayer shawl, but just as something fun. I chose a fuzzy eyelash yarn that blends hot pinks, bright oranges and purples. It doesn’t exactly fit into my own neutral wardrobe, but it did match the pink wig I used to wear when my hair jumped ship.

I am embarrassed to say, though, that even after knitting on this scarf in the waiting room during several doctors’ appointments, I eventually pierced the muppet- colored ball of yarn with the needles and relegated the scarf to a tote bag, where itásat in my craft closet for almost half a decade. I picked it up again over the weekend, at Bee’s request, because she wanted to see what I had knitted. I was amazed that I was able to pick it up again, and relearn the techniques - with a little help from my daughter, of course.

Two weeks ago, friends from Florida, with whom I had lost contact until just recently, sent me a message online asking about my cancer experience. I hate getting those things, because it always means that a friend had gotten difficult news. This time, it was more than difficult. It was heart-wrenching.

My friends’ 15-year-old daughter was scheduled to undergo a biopsy for an enlarged lymph node. Her pediatrician had predicted a 50/50 chance for Hodgkin’s Disease.

Last week, Emilie, whom I have not seen since she was around 4, was diagnosed with cancer. Over the weekend, her parents posted a photo of her to a care page so friends far and near can keep up with the latest news. In the photo, she has a stripe of hair dyed bright orange to match her soccer jersey.

I saw the photo as I sat at my kitchen table knitting with my little girl, and I knew instantly who would receive the scarf that was five years in the making. I did not know, when I chose that bright yarn so many years ago, who would receive this scarf. And I hate like anything that I have the opportunity to send it. But every single loop is bound with prayers and wishes for healing, and they’re headed in Emilie’s direction.

Elizabeth Trever Buchinger has had just about enough out of you, Cancer.

You can connect with her and other readers at www. moremindfulfamily.wordpress. com or email her at VillageWordsmith@gmail. com.