I have found a passion. I love to crochet. I love making gifts. Before I was ever diagnosed, I prayed. "Lord, bless my hands. I want to use my hands to create." My grandmother Louisa, she was an artist. I often heard stories of her making pants, skirts out of "leftover" clothing. She wove with birch bark, softened moose hide, strung thousands of beads. She crocheted, she knitted. She took care of her family. Growing up more than once I heard it asked of my mom, which one is going to be Louisa (referring to my sisters and myself). My mom smiled. She raised us, my mom, the intellect. She used her mind, her words, this is how she gave strength. This is how she took care of her family. As a child these words others asked, who? Who was the prodigy? Who would carry on the culture with her hands? ME! Pick me! But as I grew I would try different things, sewing with moose skin, sewing with a sewing machine, needlepoint nothing seemed to "click". When I met Bill, we had another couple that became good friends. K and I decided to learn to crochet. Her grandmother sent us books. We tried. Over the years I tried and tried. Finally the patience of a woman and her You Tube videos. And then, I pick up my beading. And then I find needlepoint. And now my hands fly to finish Christmas presents that I will forever treasure the gift they gave me to give to others. To take care of my family. Love you, love me, love you, love me.
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