THE KNITTER
She was a knitter.
She learned to knit by watching her mom - who was a knitter.
And her mom learned how to knit, by watching her mom knit, so the story goes - way back and back and beyond back into the hill countries of memory - as those who knit stories together will tell you.
When she was pregnant with her first child - she, Elizabeth, knew he would be a boy. It was in the way he would suddenly jab her - kick her - like boys do in the back of a cart together. They love to jab, push, kick each other - especially on long trips together - when going to visit the relatives.
All through the months she was kitting him in her womb - while she sat knitting blankets and coveralls for her son to be, she thought a thousand thoughts, she prayed a thousand prayers.
What to name him - when asked this pregnant woman question - she would say, "John."
Her husband Zechariah - tongue tied because he couldn't believe at their age - they could be pregnant - had written this down on a tablet for her to read.
Nobody believed her. "What do women know?" - some women said.
Well, that’s the name he received at his birth - "John!" even though their neighbors - as well as their relatives said, “Nobody in the family has ever had that name.”
So, Zechariah still tongue tied, grabbed a tablet once again and wrote boldly and clearly, once again, “His name is John.”
And John was his name….
And Zechariah's tongue was loosened ....
And his mom - while John was crawling, growing, standing, beginning to speak, would watch him from the corner of her eye. While knitting in the heat of the day - she was knitting together in her imagination - stories and scenes - great deeds and powerful things this son of theirs - would accomplish in his life.
That was the promise. That was the hope. That was her delight in the dark of night.
And why not - she thought to herself: this is what Mary and I talked about when she visited me - when she and I were both surprised with our surprise pregnancies - what would become of our sons?
And Elizabeth, the knitter, was right. The thoughts she had when God was knitting her son in her womb came through - became true. Her son became a polished arrow. He knew what he wanted and went there directly every time - as if God was an archer and John was his arrow - and change and conversion, renewal and repentance was the target. He was a sword. And boy could he be sharp with his tongue because of his seriousness and his severity and his strictness.
And Elizabeth wondered and watched as he grew older, bolder, stronger and more direct, “What will become of this child who was knitted in my womb?”
Then the further thoughts? "What will become of Jesus? What will become of Mary - whom I praised that day way back when, 'Of all women you are the most blessed? Blessed is the fruit of your womb.'”
At that thought from way back, Elizabeth smiled, because when she blessed Mary with that comment - John made a great “Amen” of approval with a good kick within her being. He caused her to drop her knitting needles and wool to the ground - and she embraced Mary, woman to woman, baby in the belly to baby in the belly. Amen.
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Painting on top: The Visitation - 1503 -
by Mariotto di Bigio di Bindo Albertino [1474-1515]
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