The Grandma Who Made My Son’s New Sweater
My mother-in-law just sent the most gorgeous handmade sweater for my 17-month-old Yaakov.
Here’s a photo of the sweater my dear MIL bought in a second-hand store in Kingston, Ontario, where she lives. I especially adore the carefully knitted teddy bears with matching panda buttons.
Looking at this sweater, I imagine the devoted Canadian grandmother who spent so many hours knitting this sweater, her love for her new grandchild poured into every stitch, every teddy bear, every carefully-chosen panda button.
And then one day, I imagine, that baby grew up, and his mother packed up the sweater and gave it away. And if the grandmother saw that sweater packed up and ready to be shipped out, how could she not feel a twinge of sadness?
So much love poured into that sweater, and what would happen to it now? Would it sit in the store unsold because nobody liked it? Would it be considered low quality and thrown into the big dumpster in the alley?
And that grandmother has absolutely no idea that the sweater that was the expression of so much love has ultimately found its way to the Holy City.
And she has no idea how much we, it’s new owners, love this sweater (I even wrote a blog post about it!)
And she has no idea how nearly unbearably adorable Yaakov looks in it as he stomps around the house grinning and clapping his hands and busying himself with his 17-month-old mischief.
An act of kindness.
A word of Torah.
Throw the smallest stone in the water.
A ripple starts.
Rings of water that spread and spread.
And like that Canadian grandmother, you will never ever know just how far:)