Prayer Shawls

At our church we have a group of women who meet regularly to knit shawls, which we then give to people – church members, relatives of members, friends or neighbors who might be wanting or needing comfort and prayer. The knitting group varies from a few to many. The knitting is done at bi-weekly meetings and in between. The yarn is purchased or donated, and the knitting patterns are as varied as the members of the group.

In addition to the shawls, the knitting group makes “prayer pockets”, small squares made into pockets into which are placed a talisman of some sort representing to the recipient the presence of God or their guardian angel or their “higher power”. If you are going into a scary situations, whether it’s a dentist’s office, a principal’s office, or an oncologist’s office, it is like taking your guardian angel with you when you carry a prayer pocket in your pocket. It reminds us that we are never alone.

The knitting group consists of experienced knitters, (even one who has taught knitting and spins her own yarn) – and people just learning to knit. Some of the members don’t knit at all. They crochet.

While the shawl is being made, or the prayer pocket, we don’t know who will get them. That means that while we make them, we pray for everyone, whether they think they need those prayers or warm wishes or not. We pray for each other. We pray for people we’ve encountered that day, including the checker at the grocery store, or the waitress at Denny’s, the kid we passed lugging his backpack to school, or the person we’re having a hard time liking. We pray for the guy who cut us off on the road, and we pray for the doctors and dentists who will be treating the people we love.

On Sundays the completed shawls and prayer pockets are blessed during the service before they are given away to wrap someone in our love and our prayers. The good part is that the recipient does not know exactly who knit their shawl, so they can assume that we all did.

BLOOD AND DONUTS

Yesterday was my day to donate to the Blood Source. http://www.bloodsource.org/ This might be considered a generous act, and perhaps it is, but I have to admit to ulterior motives!

First, when you are my age, there isn’t much of you that people want any more – I’m too old to be even tested for bone marrow, my eyes are dim, my donatable organs have been pretty much used, although I proudly carry my donor card. The blood bank loves my blood – and they love my platelets even more. They call me up when its time for me to donate, they thank me profusely even before I have made the appointment.

Yesterday, as I walked in to be interviewed, I was handed a certificate for a “pint for a pint” of Baskin Robbins ice cream. (http://www.baskinrobbins.com/) I now have almost enough to have my own ice cream social. All I need are the strawberries, bananas, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, pineapple, nuts and cherries. I have a stunning variety of tee shirts from the blood bank! Then, since I am a platelet donor, I get weighed. That is, perhaps, for me, the hardest part of donating platelets. They never weighed me when I gave whole blood. They took my word for my weight, which remained unchanged year after year, despite all visible evidence to the contrary. So I take off my shoes, glasses, watch, etc. and close my eyes while they do this.

Giving platelets takes longer, from one to two hours depending on how many they are taking. They settled me in and gave me a choice of movies – a huge choice of movies. Yesterday they were doing one unit of platelets and one of packed red blood cells, so I didn’t think 67 minutes was time enough for a movie. Retired people are particularly valuable platelet donors – because we have the time. With platelets we can give more often. There it is – another senior advantage. It is not every day I get the chance to lie back and read a good book for 67 minutes.

Blood bank people are amazing. The phlebotomists (great word!) have never missed with me. The 67 minutes pass quickly.

Then comes the really good part – the donuts. Only when I give blood can I justify eating a wonderful, sinful, donut! As I sit savoring each bite, I pick up a heart shaped sticker that says “Be nice to me today, I gave blood”. I attach it to my forehead for the ride home.

I have now given 79 units of blood. (You get extra credit – two for one – for donating platelets or packed red cells.)(Women are no longer allowed to give plasma at our blood bank). One more pint of blood and I will have given ten gallons – and will be eligible for the Blood Source’s annual dinner. Fred has offered to take me out to dinner for no blood, and I must say I’ve taken him up on that lots of times – but this dinner will be special. I will wear a blood source tee shirt!

THE EARLY BIRD AND ALL THAT FOOLISHNESS

A typical garden on our walk

Every morning, as part of my senior fitness program, I get up at six in order to walk at seven with my friend and neighbor, Rosemary. Although we are both retired, we walk early to beat the heat. Before I leave the house I turn on the whole house fan, and by the time I get home an hour later, it is time to close up the house and turn off the fan, as the temperature outside is already rising to a less than comfortable level.

Rosemary is walking as part of her training for a pilgrimage across Spain. I am walking to stave off old age. This week Rosemary is off learning Spanish. I am forced to exert enormous amounts of self discipline, and walk on my own. So far, two days out of two, I have done that.

Later in the day, when I treat myself to something delicious and sinful, I justify my excesses by the fact that I have walked. When my children succumb to the temptation to raise their parents, I can tell them that I have walked. We’re proud of you, they say.

We pass some spectacular yards and gardens on our walk. I am impressed by the creativity and talent of my neighbors. My plants struggle to survive. If there were a Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Plants, I think my plants would turn me in.

Inspired by my neighbors, Fred and I bought some plants in pots. We think our soil is unhealthy,

home to lots of moles and gophers and other root eating creatures. Pots supply the instant gratification we crave – none of this waiting for seeds to germinate. We have lined our walk with gopher-proof wine barrels and deer resistant flowering plants in pots.

Our friendly gophers

Each day we are barked at or sniffed by dogs, glared at by families of wild turkeys, honked at by families of geese. We watch some neighbors retrieve their morning papers, and others leave for work. We gloat a bit that we don’t have to do that any more, although both of us secretly miss the work we did. As we discuss our plans for the day, we marvel at how very full our days are, and wonder how we ever had time for work in the first place.

Soon Rosemary will be walking with her backpack. Not me. I shall admire her stamina in much the same way as I admire my neighbors’ gardens.

Rosemary, next week