I Wanted to be Funny

I have been trying now for about 25 minutes to write something funny or witty or clever or even profound. Truth is, though, you all continue to leave me speechless. I am struck dumb by your continued generousity and kindness. You don't know the miners, you've never met me--but you keep knitting and and mailing and offering kind words and I love you all so much I can't stand it. I'm humbled by all of you, seriously. Today's mail brought these from Dianne inVirginia:

Dianne, I love that stipey thing you've got going with the purple and black. The sharp-eyed among you have already spotted the Koigu sitting there above the squares. Dianne kindly donated it as a prize for someone when I start drawing names (likely this weekend). And she sent me some black yarn for edging and some lovely gifts and I am so very pleased and grateful that you thought of me. I keep wanting to see Virginia--if I get there, I will call upon you and give you the hug you have coming in person.

Yesterday's mail brought all of these:

and this from Lynn in Texas:

I'm loving the megasquare like you can't believe. I don't know quite you you did it, but I love it. I'll be doing a lot of edging and sewing this weekend, so I should have some photos of real progress by Sunday. My newest idea is to have the blankets ready for Christmas gifts. It seems to me that the first holiday without your loved one must be painful in a way I can't imagine. And I know that the story is already gone from the news the way these things do, and I would think that would mean a great deal of aloneness at such a family-oriented time. That also gives us all time to knit and me time to edge and join all six blankies. Eight if I get enough squares (so as to include the families of the rescuers).

When I was a little girl, I used to sometimes go with my mom to visit my dad while he worked out of town. He puts up steel buildings for a living, and he does so all over the place so I stayed in a lot of wonderful little towns. One was Kellogg, Idaho which was the home of a huge mining disaster many years ago in the Sunshine Silver Mine. I remember standing there looking at the memorial and asking my parents over and over again if it was really true, if all those men really died and how it could possibly be fair. It wasn't, of course, and it isn't.

Every night now when Mr. K comes home I hold him extra close because I realize more than ever how lucky I am that he CAN come home. I never say good-bye to him in the morning without reminding him to come home safely to me and I always leave with a pang. I can't begin to imagine the pain of losing a beloved someone in that way, and it is this thought that keeps me knitting. And edging. And stitching. And then you guys send me more stuff and I think that there are no better people in the world than you, and I knit and edge and stitch together even harder and faster--so I can be worthy of all the good people working with me and through me.

I wanted to be funny today. Instead, I'm just grateful. Gifted by the friendship of all of you, privileged to be able to call you friends even though we've never officially met. Touched by the extraordinary love you all keep sending along. It's a bottomless well, I think. I'm in awe.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you. You'll get tired of hearing that before this is all over...but I'll never get tired of saying it.