Knit from stash

This morning's Gospel lesson was from Matthew 25:14-30, a parable about three servants given money by their master. Two invested what they were given, got good returns, and turned it into more. One buried the money, afraid to lose any of it. 

I listened to the sermon, which began with a little story of a child who couldn't bear to give things away but instead kept them under the bed. My mind jumped to what's under my bed, and in the cedar chest, and in baskets in the living room, and pretty soon I'd found the meaning of the parable for me today: knit from your stash.

Stash is a confessional theme in the world of fiber hobbyists. We invest in yarn, or in fabric, in beads, floss, patterns and project kits. And the investing, at least for some of us, runs ahead of the making. If I were to finish two projects for every one that I bought yarn for, I'd start to clear things up in a decade or two. But the satisfaction of finishing something, along with the temptations from yarn stores that fill my email inbox, means the buying runs slightly ahead of the finishing six months out of the year. The other six months I put myself on a yarn diet. It works like most diets -- you can stick to it for a while, but when you go off the diet, you do so in a big way. 

But back to the Bible, or rather, back to considering the "knit from stash" mantra. 

Often it's the especially beautiful skein that lingers in the stash, or the really gorgeous piece of fabric. The one you didn't buy with a specific purpose in mind, you bought it just because you loved it. Because you were at an outdoor yarn festival and the August sun made the reds and oranges so warm and festive. Or because you picked it up and carried it around the yarn shop and it was made of alpaca and felt heavenly. Or because the bright floral print on the quilting fabric lifted your heart on a grey day. Or because you truly want to make something lovely for someone you love -- like hand knit Christmas stockings or a new pink quilt for a young woman's bed.

But once the fabric is cut, it's cut, and it can't be anything else. Once the yarn is knit and you've put all the time into it but don't like how it's turning out -- well, it's a lot of work to unravel it and use the yarn again. Sometimes you start something and you just can't get it to work the way you want it to and it gets shoved into a bag and then into a corner. (If it's blog post, it stays on your dashboard with a red DRAFT label on it, until without even reading it again, you click the garbage can.)

It's better to be knitting than not knitting. It's better to be sewing pieces of fabric together than just admiring the folded yardage on the shelf. It's better to start the project and give it, if not your best effort, a good effort, and to learn something from the doing. I just finished knitting a hat, for which I chose the colors and the patterns. It's pretty and bright, and much smaller than I intended. I'll take what I learned and start another one soon. 

The servant who buries his talent in the parable is cast out by the master. Focusing on fear and anxiety, or rather, on these things above all, do not advance the kingdom. Hiding the stash away, or feeling guilty about having it do not lead to happiness or creativity or warm quilts and sweaters. 

Make something out of what you're given, or of the things you've collected -- thread, fiber, experience, stories. Knit from stash and carry on.