The Sheep called. They said they would make more.
Your response, Gentle Readers, to the news of my sweater loss has been truly astounding. Gobsmacking, actually. I knew I had many great knitting friends, but the outpouring of love that has washed over me from you all has completely blown my mind.
Everyone who contacted me said they felt my loss as their own, and unbelievably, offered over and over to help. Help to search E-bay and Craig's List for me. Help to re-knit all the sweaters. Help to come over and paper my neighborhood with signs. And most importantly, help keeping my spirits up. Friends have called to check in on me. Made sure I wasn't hiding under a pile of acrylic yarn. Offered to bring over snacks. Even sent replacement birthday presents for Lindsay.
Knitters can do anything, and when they close ranks around one of their own, there is no safer or more loved place in the world.
So I have spent the last week licking my wounds, thanking God for my loving and talented supporters, and reminding myself that my problems are blessedly those of the First World.
Worst Things I Did Last Week:
1. Cry in the police station. Really hard. With snot bubbles.
2. Visit pawn shops, where I was informed that no information could be given to me because they have to "protect the privacy" of their clients (I wondered who was protecting my privacy).
3. Tell my little girl her birthday presents were stolen and she would have to wait till I could replace them.
4. Wake up in the middle of every night remembering that the sweaters are gone and try to imagine ways of finding them.
5. Kick myself for thinking the locked trunk of my car, in my own driveway would be a safe place to store my life's work.
Best Things I Did Last Week:
1. Read a note of encouragement from a law enforcement veteran who has become a knitter.
2. Visit pawn shops, where I saw things people have parted with, either willingly or not, under duress. Belongings are just things. It's people we can never replace.
3. Drive my 76-year-old mom to the shoe store, where she insisted on replacing Lindsay's stolen birthday Danskos.
4. Remind myself in the middle of the night that there is a reason for my loss. Maybe God decided it was time to remind me how loved I am.
5. Laugh my ass off when Tina asked me to imagine all the hobos in Portland dressed in Mary Scott Huff sweaters. Style points at the Rescue Mission would be off the charts.
6. Be hugged by Phillip, Lindsay and Campbell. All at the same time.
Gentle Readers, your selflessly kind offers to undertake a massive reknitting project have completely floored me. If, after a couple more weeks, the samples haven't found their way home. I will be contacting everyone who volunteered to help in that way. The yarn companies will have to be contacted first, and then there will need to be some sort of organization, of which I still can't quite conceive. But I will.
And in the meantime, there are still (thankfully) deadlines for me to meet, and knitting to knit, and ideas to have. And Blessings to Count. Thank you, thank you, both old friends and new. You lot are more than I ever dreamed of, and more than I deserve.
And thanks especially to whomever called the sheep.