Subversive Knitting

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Knitting for Our Furry Friends

Most of the charities I support and feature on Knitting for Change are engaged in helping people. But this month I'd like to change the focus a little and talk about our furry friends in need.

When I was in the 6th grade, Mr. Tamborino, our teacher told us that memorizing a poem could change our lives. I didn't really believe him, because I'd memorized a poem and nothing had happened to me. A few years earlier, a close family friend and the school nurse, Phebe Downs, had made me a decoupage plaque with a picture of a teddy bear and a poem by Emily Dickenson. I had the plaque hanging in my bedroom, and I'd read it to myself so many times that I'd memorized it without even trying.

If I can stop one heart from breaking,

I shall not live in vain;

If I can ease one life the aching,

Or cool one pain,

Or help one fainting robin

Unto his nest again,

I shall not live in vain.

When I was young, I thought the only way to make a difference in the world was to be "important." I dreamt about being an astronaut, a missionary, even the president. But my life didn't take me in any of those directions. I never learned to fly, I am no longer a Christian, and I have decided to leave politics to those who can stomach the compromise that is required to win an election. Over time I came to realize that the little things are the ones that count. Buying a friend a bag of groceries, planting a flower, comforting a puppy or kitten in an animal shelter. While we celebrate the big days in our lives, it is not the weddings and funerals who make us who we are, but the Mondays, Thursdays, and Saturdays throughout the year. The little moments when we are not even thinking about anything important are the times when we are most ready to experience enligtenment and change.

So this month, I am including links to several knitting charities that aim to help pets. With the small act of comforting an animal, maybe we can bring a few spots of sunshine to dark corners of the world. I still have the plaque that Mrs. Downs gave me, and I still love the words preserved under the layers of shellac. In some small way, I think memorizing a poem has changed my life after all.