Mrs. B. is one of my most favourite people in the world.
I’ve known her for about thirty eight years now and we’ve always had a radiant friendship. When we spend time together, she just makes my heart happy. When I visit her in her warm home, I savour all her stories – every picture on the wall and every knick knack on her shelves holds a special place in her heart. She treasures her children and her grandchildren – they are blessed to have such a rich and loving heritage. Mrs. B. continues to tell me that she too has been blessed with her family and her relationship with Jesus Christ.
Mrs. B. was my first love’s mother and from the minute we met, there was a strong connection between us. When I was a teenager, she was a second mother to me – in many ways, she was a first mother to me – I always felt welcomed, accepted and loved in her home. Good memories are plentiful when I think of Mr. and Mrs. B. and good feelings always surface when I’m around this wonderful woman.
I appreciate homemade gifts so I started crocheting blankets for people I love…and I love Mrs. B.
I don’t like analyzing why I’m a blanket maker but suffice it to say that there’s something about all the hours it takes to create something with my own hands; as I twiddle away with the crochet hook, I get a big chunk of time to think about the recipient of this labor of love…it’s as simple as that. Well made blankets last a long time and speak of long time love.
Now, when it comes to crocheting blankets, I am the queen of back and forth – I don’t do fancy. I buy wool, sit down and start crocheting. When I get tired of one color, I introduce a new color. There’s no pattern, no counting and no elegance about it – just straight rows of spontaneous changes of color. I’ve seen some resplendent works of art, when it comes to crocheted blankets…including the ones already piled on Mrs. B’s sofas and hiding in her closet – it turns out that Mrs. B is of the crocheting elite and her work puts mine to shame.
But she was delighted with my simple, little striped blanket.
Every woman needs a Mrs. B. in her life. I know I do.
…and everybody needs their own blanket.