Erin Spatz: What is so wrong about saying that you messed up?
For Autumn’s birthday, my sister (aka: “Lissy-poo”), gave Autumn a beginners knitting set.
She had been dying to learn, so I got the directions out and started to read them. I am almost certain they were written in English but I have no idea what it said!
Eric even tried to figure it out, to no avail.
And what does any good parent do when their sweet child wants to learn something?
You ask your friends on Facebook if they know how, which is exactly what Eric did.
A kind Facebook friend suggested Island Knits in Pawleys Island.
A quick check of their website, and knitting lessons were a go.
Autumn went to her first lesson and the sweet ladies there showed her how to begin.
She had a good time and came home happily knitting a beginners stitch.
As I watched her knit all weekend, I noticed something (and I am no knitting expert).
If she made a mistake, the stitch could be redone.
How often have we made a “stitch” that we would like to redo?
I know I often have.
Autumn would say, “ Oh, I messed up.”
And she would begin to fix the mistake.
How many conflicts and broken relationships could be redone, if we simply said “I messed up.”
Instead, too often we keep “knitting” and end up with a big mess.
What is so wrong about saying that you messed up?
I am certain that it’s frustrating to be knitting away, only to discover a mistake, but they can all be fixed.
Yes, it’s work to fix but it’s fixable.
If a stitch was dropped, you go back and pick it up. How different our lives would look, if we would pick up after ourselves.
Autumn sat quietly, contentedly knitting.
Knowing that whatever she did while knitting could be fixed, and whatever she didn’t know about knitting she would learn from those who had been there before her.
How quiet and content would I be if I rested my soul in the knowledge that if I made a mistake it could be fixed, and if I didn’t know something, someone who had gone before me would show me the way?
Those sweet ladies took time to show Autumn how to do something she didn’t know before, because someone had taught them.
Am I willing to share what I know with someone coming along the road behind me?
I hope that I am willing to help those along the way. Because a beautiful “knitted blanket” of corrected mistakes is what I’d rather have than a ball of yarn.
Notice about comments: