The Crafty Christmas Corner

This holiday season has turned out to be a very crafty one, full of knitting, crocheting, felting, cookie-baking (See cookie buckets in photo!), and other assorted Martha-Stewart-style activities. Partially, perennial brokeness has habituated me to hand-made rather than store-bought presents. It's a habit I'm not planning on breaking though, because there's something beautiful about hand-made items.

My mother and sister have always been fabulous gift-givers. They find the most amazing, artistic, and apt gifts at bazaars, local stores, and farmer's markets. My inhibitions about spending money have prevented me from jumping on that bandwagon. But by making gifts myself, I hope to give some of that same warm-cozy to their recipients that I feel when I receive a gift from the aforementioned fabulous mother and sister.

Something else happens with a hand-made gift, somthing that makes hand-made gifts an appropriate topic for a blog about texts. They say something. They speak to the character and tastes of the giver as well as the receiver, and what they say about each person traverses, back and forth, the bonds that tie the two together. In a way, what these gifts say changes those bonds, strengthens them, weaves the past to the present and opens new avenues to the future. The weaving/growing/bond metaphor springs easily to my mind, since so many of the gifts I've been making are knitted or crocheted. They may take hours upon hours to complete, and I may be reading or watching TV or listening to This American Life while I work, but a good portion of the time I spend on each gift is spent thinking about the person it's for.

I think about the colors and patterns I've chosen for this person, hoping or knowing that they'll love them. This is the past. The experiences I've shared with him or her informs every choice I make.

When I painstakingly unravel and correct mistakes, I think about the moment this person opens their gift, and how I want that moment to be perfect and free of mistakes. I want to create a beautiful tiny space in their life that in some way reflects the space they occupy in my mind, a space I can go to to appreciate how wonderful my friends and family are. This is the present.

And when I've gotten into the swing of things, I let my mind wander and imagine the fun--and sorrows--I have yet to experience with this person, this wonderful friend, confidante, supporter, sounding board, inspiration. This is the future.

All these daydreams can't be drawn from a shawl or wall-hanger or pillow, no matter how loudly I think while I'm making those gifts. What can be drawn from the gifts is the care I put into making them, the concern I have for their recipient's tastes, and the time I have and will invest into my relationships.

I'm not big on receiving gifts myself. I enjoy knowing that people care, but I'm perfectly content with a hug and conversation on the phone or over a cup of coffee. But if I get one Christmas wish, it's that the gifts I give speak as loudly to their recipients as they have to me while I've been making them.