Have you ever had someone tell you something over and over again, and although you nodded your head and thought you understood...you really didn't?
That was me.
About twenty-five years ago, my dear friend Myrna patiently tried to teach me one of the most valuable knitting lessons I've ever learned.
"Doris...read your knitting."
Every time I made a mistake, she'd say it.
Every.
Single.
Time.
I'd confidently reply, "I am reading my knitting!"
She would smile and gently correct me.
"No, you're reading the pattern. Read your knitting. Read the stitches."
At the time, I thought I understood.
Apparently...I didn't.
Fast forward to this past week.
I was happily knitting Alina's beautiful Julie Kardi when I discovered I was off by one stitch.
"No problem," I thought.
I'll just add a stitch.
Then I remembered something Alina had said.
"You can't just add a stitch anywhere because you'll throw off the pattern repeat."
Well...there went my brilliant solution!
As I sat there looking at my knitting, something suddenly clicked.
Myrna's voice popped into my head.
"Read your knitting."
For the first time in a very different way, I understood exactly what she had meant all those years ago.
Instead of immediately looking back at the written instructions, I studied the chart. I looked at what the fabric was supposed to become. Then I looked at the stitches already on my needles.
The stitches were telling me the story.
I could see where the pattern repeat belonged.
I could see where the slip stitch had to be placed.
The answer wasn't hidden in the words.
It was already sitting there on my needles.
Suddenly, everything made sense.
Isn't it funny how some lessons take years to truly understand?
I thought Myrna was teaching me how to fix mistakes.
What she was really teaching me was how to understand my knitting.
Patterns eventually end.
Charts get folded away.
But if you learn to read your knitting, your knitting becomes your teacher.
Sometimes the best teachers don't just teach us how to knit. They teach us how to think.
Twenty-five years later, I finally understood what Myrna had been trying to tell me all along.
So, thank you, Myrna, for your patience, your kindness, and for never giving up on me.
And thank you, Alina, for unknowingly bringing Myrna's lesson full circle. Without even realizing it, you reminded me that the answer wasn't in adding another stitch—it was already there, waiting for me to see it.
The lesson had been sitting on my needles all along.
Now...
If someone could just teach me how to count...
Happy Knitting! Hugs & Kisses,
Doris & Julie