Quince and Co's offerings? Delightful. I'm smitten with the rich yet subtle color ways, weights named after birds, and charming patterns. One collection is Interwoven, a sweet little book of jewelry options. I raided my wool for all of those left over bits of skeins. I easily came up with half a dozen color combos; the first my eldest daughter wanted was turquoise + red, which happens to be a favorite of mine, as well. She supervised from behind her tablet while I cut, braided, and wrapped for less than an hour. The next necklace I make will be of thin braided strands. Addictive little process with lovely results.
I am grateful for any opportunity to share creative time with her. She's about to turn ten, beginning to maneuver the delicate stage of prepubescence, the hints of everything changing, inside and out, with no real idea of what that really means. At times she does or says such grown-up things and I find myself watching her, silently warning her in my head, "it will hurt, and be confusing, and the next decade will form you, and I am sorry that I can't make it easier, but you have to go through it to get to the you on the other side."
The urge to over protect children is so very strong. The art of shielding them from our interference is difficult, but what parenting is made of. I am reminded of this when my 7 year old son rails against being considered a little boy in public, yet still requires my comfort and doting in private. Or, when I want to put the baby's dolly in her hand rather than letting her continue through frustrated attempts at grasping it on her own. If I were to make every challenge they face easier, what would they learn of their own reliance, of the universes of ability and transformation inside themselves? Giving them enough help to comfort but not so much they are dependent is such an intricate dance. I imagine I'll feel this way no matter their age, no matter the circumstance. Admitting you have no control over the pain or fear or just plain old sadness your loved one's will inevitably face is one of the hardest exercises in growing up we all have to do. There is no other option. They have to learn for themselves that joys cannot exist without a balance of sorrows, pleasures without pains. All we can do is wait for them on the other side, take their hands and be content with who they choose to become.
There are thoughts which are like prayers.There are moments when whatever the posture of the body, the soul is on its knees. Victor Hugo