Last year in December, I had an eye problem which needed regular attendance at the eye hospital. After the last visit of the year, just about now, I decided to walk home. Clear my head, avoid public transport (vaccines weren’t quite in arms), breathe and think. I passed one of many churches on my way home. Outside, there was a lady hanging little knitted angels from the fence. They were stunning, people had clearly taken great care to make them special. Pastel wools, wings, halos, a tiny bit of sparkle, and gentle, soothing faces. I told her they were beautiful, and she insisted I take one - “it’s what they’re for” she told me when I said I wanted to leave them for others to enjoy.
I brought the angel home, hung it near my kettle where it brought me regular smiles, and packed it away with the decorations at the end of the season.
This angel was unpacked and brought a fresh wave of smiles to me this year, and I realised the kindness of strangers was still arriving. Then, early this morning, I heard a little piece on the radio about a growing trend of knitted mini angels being hidden around towns. One teacher said in her school it had become a huge excitement for the children as they discovered them and brought them in to school show one another.
The days are still rocky and uncertain and yet if we send our eyes wide there are many, many people still willing to be beacons, even in the smallest of ways, for and with others.
Somewhere, somebody knits an angel which might one day be in your palm. And that is how we know it will all be ok. Here’s to us who might burn the gravy and spill the soup, here’s to us who might cry with frustration in the cupboard, here’s to us who walk away until we garner enough energy to cope, and somewhere, somebody is knitting a mini angel to watch over us.
Merry Moodmas to all who wander this fairy light lit path together, here’s to us!
The, slightly untidy but with heart, room above the garage
A Moodscope member.