God knits a pair of socks

Chapter One: She hadn’t spoken to me in over six months when I contacted her about something. Two days later she replied, “I’m sorry for the delay, but we had to make some end-of-life-care decisions about my father.”

Flashback Prologue, two weeks earlier:

Me: Hey,  this is a really cool sock pattern for worsted-weight socks!

Me: Wow, worsted-weight socks knit up so fast!

Me: Well, I don’t like this pattern, but I bet I can make other worsted-weight socks. Here, I’ll order some yarn to do that.

Me: Hey, look at this awesome yarn! I love the green-and-purple. I’ll order two skeins of ‘vineyard,’ that way I’ll have one skein per sock.

{shopping cart screws up, demands I log in, logs me in to an empty shopping cart.}

Me: I’ll just re-add them to my shopping cart and buy them now.

{shopping cart screws up again.}

Me: This better work.

{re-add yarn to cart, make purchase, all fine.}

Three days later:

Me: Yay! My purple-and-green yarn is here!

{opens package, discovers brown, white, tan and rust colored yarn.}

Me: Wha…?

{checks online purchase and apparently the last time I re-added the yarn, I clicked on the wrong color. Instead of the vibrant Vineyard I got the much more sedate Riverbed.}

Me: Well, it’s still nice yarn. {{knits for five days, discovers each skein will make two socks, so one skein is leftover, untouched. Socks are beautiful, thick and warm.}}

Back to Chapter One:

Friend: I’ll see you in two days even though it’s all terrible.

Me: You sound like you could use a warm fuzzy. Hey, want a pair of socks? Actually, would your *dad* like a pair of socks?

Her: Yeah, wow, he would!

Author’s note: sock-weight yarn used for socks knits up at about eight stitches per inch and I think ten rows per inch of length. That means your average pair of socks has something like ten thousand stitches. But worsted weight yarn knitted up for socks is closer to four stitches per inch and only about five rows per inch. You’re talking about a pair of socks in a quarter the time. They don’t look nearly as nice and they’re bulkier, but they also don’t take twenty hours per pair to knit.

Chapter Two: 

Me: I wonder if I have yarn for slipper-socks…hey! Wait! I still have that other yarn! And look, it’s in manly colors! And I know it makes nice socks because I’m wearing the other pair right now!

{{proceeds to knit for about 5 hours straight, finishes one sock}}

Me: I wonder if I could make the stripes line up on these socks, because they don’t really line up on mine, but they’d look better if they’re not super-not-matchy.

{{finds place in pattern where yarn colors will repeat in proper sequence}}

{{knits for another 5 hours}}

Second sock finished. Yarn runs out approximately two yards after the toe of the second sock. Stripes are almost perfectly matchy.

Chapter Three:

Me: I hope they fit him.

Friend: Wow! If they don’t fit him, I’m wearing them!

Epilogue:

I’m convinced God made these socks. Because I shouldn’t have had the yarn at all, let alone in that color. And I shouldn’t have had the experience knitting worsted-weight socks. And if I hadn’t made contact with this person on one of the infrequent occasions where I do see her, I wouldn’t have known to make them. And the fact that the yarn ran out with maybe six feet left…? That’s got God’s fingerprints all over it.

Please pray the recipient has a peaceful passing and for comfort and peace for his family.