Second Thoughts

I'm probably 75% done with my sweater.  I've tried it on several times throughout the knitting, but always thought it would look better when I got it to length.  Well, it is two rows from bind off, after which I would add sleeves, so I divided the stitches between two circular needles to try it on and check the length/fit.  It is the right length.  It fits.  But it isn't really me.


So I asked Chuck to give me his opinion.  He said he didn't really like it.  Then he looked at me.  Then he asked if I'd really wanted honesty.  Poor guy.


The thing is, I can't throw away good yarn.  It is good yarn, after all.  It is expensive yarn---although it could be more expensive...but still.  I also still need a white sweater, so why buy more white yarn when I have such a large quantity so readily available?

But Chuck is so sympathetic.  He really hates to see all those hours of knitting go to waste.  So he tells me he really doesn't like the sweater on me, and that he doesn't think it will grow on him, but don't unravel it yet...sleep on it at least a few nights.  Maybe someone else will want it?  Naaaa.

So I went to Ravelry, a site for people who knit or crochet.  It's amazing.  You can look up nearly any pattern, find out how to buy or download it, and see the way it looked when hundreds of other people knit it up.  You can see the changes they made to it.  Many of them write down detailed instructions for how they made those changes.  You can see pictures they posted so you can tell how it looks on different body types.

I did this for my Rosamund cardigan, and I liked how it looked on my body type.  But I guess I've just never worn a style like that before, so when I put it on, it wasn't me.  I could take a leap.  Or I could make something else.

There is a shalom sweater pattern on Ravelry that I've bookmarked before, thinking it would make a great future project.  Now I went back to look some more.  It has cap sleeves and I want long sleeves, so I went to the picture and descriptions of what other knitters did with this sweater.  Wow.  There are some wonderfully creative knitters on Ravelry.

shadystroll's version of the Shalom cardigan

My favorite variation includes some cable work on the front and sleeves that aren't in the original pattern.  It has long fitted sleeves.  And it will be easy to figure out how to put in button holes that go all the way to the bottom of the sweater.  I read the comments the knitter had written.  She made this sweater after she decided to unravel a poncho she never wears!  She used ideas from the changes made by 2-3 other knitters, and also added her own changes to make this beautiful sweater.


I love the idea of knitting a pattern that someone else designed after unraveling something they don't wear, to make something for myself after unraveling something I won't wear.

I'll add my own ideas.  I want buttons and buttonholes to go all the way down so I can wear the sweater closed at the bottom and open at the neckline.  I may want the sleeves to be wrist length, or maybe not.  I have time to consider that option.  And I will probably use a different cable along the sides of the front because I don't own the book that has the cable pattern she used---but the library has a book with hundreds of stitch patterns.  I'll find something I love.

So last night I printed up the new pattern, along with all the notes from every knitter's modifications that I thought would be helpful.  Then I sat down in front of Private Practice and started frogging my sweater.

I learned from Ravelry that frogging is the term for unraveling a sweater.  I learned at the knit-along at the Newton Beadery why the word 'frogging' is used.  When you unravel you rippit rippit rippit.

It is now back in large balls of yarn waiting for me to knit swatches to check gauge, and then cast on the new sweater.

I'm sure there are some implications I could include about redemption and faith here.  I have ripped my yarn back to its original form in order to form something new and more useful and beautiful.  However, the original form, the yarn itself, is also beautiful and useful, and definitely of value, and not to be quickly or thoughtlessly discarded.  Even in the act of tearing down there is still the joy of new creation and hope for something that will use the beauty of the yarn to even greater advantage.  If I consider myself to be the yarn, would I find the unraveling painful? devastating? frightening? freeing? fulfilling? hopeful?

I'm glad my yarn doesn't have feelings!  But I'm also glad for opportunities to reinvent myself, or for being reinvented by God for greater use of the goodness created in me.