I Crochet Because I'm Hooked.

Back in February, I took up crocheting literally one day before the kids and I left for the FLGTBQC Midwinter Gathering. My motivation was partly peer pressure; I have lots of Quaker friends who knit or crochet or quilt their way through business meetings, and I've always envied them a little. It was also serendipity. Earlier in the month, I'd spent the day at the Midwinter Singing Festival, and a very nice woman sat next to me at the Tin Pan Alley sing-along and took out her needlework.

She was doing something interesting with a big crochet hook, that involved putting a bunch of stitches on and then taking them off again. I asked her about it, and it turned out she was doing Tunisian crochet, and she assured me it was both easy and fun. "This is what I do when I'm in the dark, like at the concert last night, and can't watch my hands."

"Easy and fun," I thought to myself. "Hmmm."

I crocheted my way through the Midwinter Gathering, and liked it. I felt like I had joined the community of stitchy people. But I was also interested to notice that crocheting seemed to keep me from blurting out jokes at inappropriate times during business meeting, one of my less attractive habits. I also found that having my hands busy allowed me to focus my mind more effectively; often I have a notebook open in biz meeting, and end up doodling or thinking about to-do lists or starting to write something. A pen and a blank sheet of paper is too appealing.

By April, I'd moved on to single crochet, and cute Amigurumi animals, having discovered that Tunisian crochet is not especially versatile without learning many many complicated stitches, and having pretty well exhausted the potential of the Tunisian Rectangle. I took a big bag of yarn and a couple of crochet hooks to the Festival of Faith & Writing with me, hung my scissors and a stitch marker from my name tag's lanyard, and spent 9-12 hours a day for three days listening to panelists, speakers, and authors, all while crocheting.

I learned a couple of things. One is that, with a little practice, it is possible to count stitches with one part of your mind while another part is paying close attention to what someone is saying.

Another is that there is something refreshing about listening without trying to hold on. At the last FFW, I took something like 20 pages of notes. At this one, I only wrote things down if they were important enough to make me put down my hook and pull my notebook and pen out of my bag. I get anxious about retaining things; it was a relief to just listen and trust that anything important would either stick with me, or turn up again sometime. And to let it be OK just to listen and have a good time.

And, finally, I learned that crocheting can help you through a mediocre panel. There were a couple I'd never have had the patience for if I didn't have the steady work of my hands to keep me calm and grounded.

(Also, I learned that, if you take up a new craft on, say, a Tuesday, doing it non-stop all day and evening that Thursday, Friday, and Saturday will lead to big improvements in your work very quickly. FFW wasn't just spiritually and intellectually enriching for me this year; it wasn't just a chance to have a great time with old and new friends. It was like Amigurumi Boot Camp.)

I'm not the only one who has noticed this. A friend once told me that she was taking knitting to some contentious meetings because it helped her not wave her finger in people's faces when she was making a vehement point. And when I shared the bumper sticker that started this post on Facebook today (thanks to my friend Oliver Danni for the picture), she also commented that knitting has gotten her through some dull meetings.

At home, I find crocheting helps me sit still in the evenings when I might otherwise be jumping up every five minutes to put just one more load of dishes in the dishwasher, or add something I just thought of to my to-do list, or get the laundry out of the dryer. Partly this is because by the time I get into my chair with my hook and my yarn and my poly-fill stuffing and my scissors and my tapestry needle and my stitch counters and my little pad of paper for keeping track of rows and my pen, it's quite the production to get up again so whatever it is had better be worth it. But it's also because crocheting helps me stay focused on a TV show or an audio book.

My friend Stasa has written about doing handwork as allowing her to remain in worship despite physical pain, or fatigue. I wish I'd realized I had the option during the time when I was dealing with constant fatigue--I dozed off in worship very often, and it was discouraging and a little embarrassing (everyone falls asleep in Quaker meeting some time--but every week?), and, as Stasa points out, kept me from participating in worship nearly as effectively as if I had stayed home. In fact, I often did stay home from worship during that time. Stasa invites us to think about handwork as an accessibility tool some people might use to be present in worship, or as a ministry they might be engaging in.

On a lighter note, I'll add that I have been enjoying crocheting--especially my amigurumi--in part because several years ago, I saw amigurumi for the first time and loved it. I aspired to it. But, I said to myself, I could never do that. My mother was, pre-arthritis, a very talented needleworker. She could make anything out of yarn. If she were young today, she'd probably be one of those people knitting parking meter cozies. But, as a kid, I never could learn, despite trying many times.

Now, I think I gave up too easily back then. As a middle-aged person, I've learned to be patient about learning--I was happy to make Rectangles of No Particular Use out of my Tunisian crochet for quite awhile, just getting the hang of the stitches and rows. I dived into amigurumi animals more quickly. I did one test sphere to see if I could manage a head, and it came out pointy on one end but close enough to convince me I had some hope of learning to do it right. My first animals came out all kinds of lopsided; just in the last couple of days I've really gotten the hang of using my stitch markers and getting through a whole row without accidentally adding or dropping any stitches. I've gotten comfortable with doing something badly until, inevitably, I get better at it.

My point was supposed to be: here I am, doing something I thought would always be beyond me. OK, crocheting a hot dog bun (my next project, requested by the Tiny Tornado, who already has an amigurumi ketchup bottle and needs the hot dog to go with it) isn't going to win me a Nobel Prize. But, however small the accomplishment, there is something very satisfying in thinking, "I can't," and then finding out, "I can."

[Look! I figured out how to include images in a blog post. Turns out there's a "picture" button. Who knew? Visual appeal, here I come!]