He gave her yellow roses

April 24, 2015March 25, 2016thegreensheep 6 Comments

“Significance of yellow roses.” I typed this into my search bar as I worked on this latest blanket.

Personally, I lean toward less traditional flowers — the handful of purple wildflowers from the hillside near my college in southern California, the tangle of bright cosmos from my first garden, the graceful tulips I came to love after living several years in Michigan. But I gained a new tenderheartedness toward roses after hearing about Richard and Anne.

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The meaning of yellow roses (from goldflorist.com):

• friendship
• a love that is familiar
• happiness with the domestic arrangement
• joy and happiness

When Richard and Anne met in college, he was on his way to becoming a dentist, she, a nurse. They married, settled down in Indiana and raised two daughters, now grown with families of their own. This last August, after over 50 years of marriage, Anne died. The daughters, grieving the loss of their mom and seeing their dad’s profound lonesomeness for her, wanted to have a blanket made for Richard from several of Anne’s sweaters. Lori, the oldest daughter, talked with me about her parents.

“Mom had a heart of gold,” said Lori. “Above all else, she loved being a friend. She liked to write cards to encourage people. She loved to get together with friends for lunch. She loved the Lord and she loved us. She was so sweet! We really miss her.

“Dad always worked very hard. He also enjoyed being an outdoorsman and hunting when he was younger. But after we were grown up, my parents had more time to travel. Myrtle Beach was a favorite place, and Dad loved to golf there. My parents completely enjoyed being together.”

“Oh!” said Lori, near the very end of the phone call. “Dad always gave Mom yellow roses! Would you put a yellow rose on the blanket?”

I look back at the meaning of a yellow rose: friendship, a familiar love, happiness in a domestic arrangement. Those warm, sunny roses are perfect for this pair, on so many levels. I also read that yellow roses can signify spring and new life, causing this blanket, made in April, to be extra timely.

Last week, when the finished blanket was hanging over the railing of my loft/sewing space, the roses caught my husband’s attention. I told him about the significance of the flowers. My guy, tough yet tender, got tears in his eyes as he imagined the difficulty of losing a companion and friend of over 50 years. “You’re gonna make him cry,” he said.

For Richard and family, I pray this blanket can be a comfort to you all and bring a sense of nearness to your wife and mom. I was touched by the love in your family and am so glad to have had the chance to make this for you.

(For readers, here are some fun blanket details: The colorful sweaters belonged to Anne–the green, the blue, the mottled blue and the multicolored one. The buttons are from the green sweater, and I included two pockets of the mottled blue. In the end, Lori chose three yellow roses for the three grandsons whom “Mom thought the world of and who felt the same about her.” Finally, the bumpy tan under the roses with its braid pattern was difficult to sew over but I love the contrast it offers. As my husband pointed out, “It looks like brambles behind the roses” — those rough patches in marriage and in life that make the sweet part even sweeter.)

“Yellow Roses” (58″x75″)

This blanket has already gone to a good home.

“Baby in the Badlands”

March 21, 2015March 21, 2015thegreensheep 10 Comments

It all started with their love of raptors.

Kristen and Lori, wildlife biologists, best friends, and now sisters-in-law (they ended up marrying brothers), met while working on a golden eagle project together in the Badlands of North Dakota.

When Lori got pregnant with her second child last year, Kristen (a Green Sheep blog lurker for over a year) wrote and asked me about the possibility of making a Badlands-themed crib blanket. Both families still live in North Dakota. Now, Lori and her husband are ranchers there.

The closest I’ve come to where these two met was the South Dakota Badlands on a family car trip in my early youth to see Mount Rushmore, Wall Drug, Crazy Horse, and the Corn Palace. That was a long time ago! So I relied on Google Images to feed my imagination. Kristen steered me away from the stylized, filtered photos toward the natural ones. What an astounding landscape!

Kristen, who has been a sewer since age eight (“I learned from my mom and in 4-H!”), requested blues and browns to echo that landscape. I headed that direction and soon realized I needed to somehow represent the Badlands’ fascinating geologic formations. Two striped sweaters were perfect for the project. I also knew from the beginning that there must be a golden eagle coasting on the air currents above the land.

For Lori and Baby Owen, who arrived just last week, here is “Baby in the Badlands.” Welcome, little one! May you come to love the land and its creatures as much as your momma and your Aunt Kristen do. And Kristen and Lori, may your friendship continue to be a blessing that binds you and your families in wonderful ways :)

“Baby in the Badlands” (45″ x 52″)

This blanket has already gone to a good home

The Irish Trio

March 15, 2015May 15, 2015thegreensheep 4 Comments

In time for St. Patrick’s day: The Irish Trio.

These three blankets belong to The Green Sheep Legacy Collection, as they commemorate the life of a loved one who has passed away. They are made in warmhearted memory of Mariclare — with her great love of Ireland in mind — and will go to her two daughters and granddaughter, as a gift from her son John and his wife Maureen.

Mariclare was actually a step-mom to the four children she raised, but I only bring up that small detail in order to tell you her story. Mariclare gamely married Jack, a widower with four children — two boys, two girls — between the ages of 7 and nearly 1. Jack had tragically lost his first wife to brain cancer on the very day she gave birth to their youngest, a baby girl. This was the needy young family that welcomed Mariclare. To these four children, all grown up now, she has simply been Mom. Her daughter-in-law calls Mariclare a saint. She may not have been as well-known as Saint Patrick, but she may have been just as crucial to one small family in God’s great kingdom!

Mariclare’s family contributed a lovely cream-colored Irish afghan of hers for the blankets. That beautiful afghan shrunk to a very small size, causing me to cut its knitted cable and basket-weave stitches into long strips rather than the rectangles I usually employ for blankets. I added in a Celtic-design sweater I’ve been saving, with chains of Celtic knots, to tie the trio together as well.

Here is “Irish Blue.” The cream pieces from Mariclare’s afghan are a geometric echo of the Irish knotwork against a rich deep blue background. Blue was St. Patrick’s color! —

Here is “Irish Cream.” In this, the afghan pieces– they are the ones that are contiguous from one edge of the blanket to the other — are part and parcel of the cream body of the blanket. —

And finally, this is “Irish Grey.” The creamy afghan stripes and the shamrock complement the subtle greys really beautifully. Very restful. —

For daughters Ann and Kathi and granddaughter Maggie, may these blankets be loving reminders of your precious mom and grandmother. Your family is grateful to you for all the care you gave her.

The Irish Trio (each approx. 52″ x 68″):

“Irish Blue”

“Irish Cream”

“Irish Grey”

The blankets have already gone to good homes

“Heart[h] and Home”

January 18, 2015January 18, 2015thegreensheep 8 Comments

Early last year, in the middle of a terribly hard time in her life, Susan lost her mom to cancer. I honestly have no words to put to such a difficult thing. I love this friend and ache for her loss.

Time and the hand of God have been at work in the healing process, and last fall Susan called me after finding some wool sweaters of her mom’s. We met over sandwiches, Susan passed me the sweaters, and asked if I’d make two blankets — one for Susan and one for her sister Cathy.

To help me with the design plan, the sisters shared particular memories of their mom, Chris: She liked to read. She made popcorn in a pot on the stove. When they lived in Westport, Connecticut, she packed picnic dinners for the beach. She planned many camping trips to Maine’s Acadia National Park. She loved her grandkids and got “grandma” time with all of them while her daughters worked. And she loved blue and green.

Susan’s family moved several times in her growing-up years, and what Cathy and Susan remember above all is Chris’ devotion to her family and to making a home for them, wherever the family found itself. Susan noted, “She wasn’t exactly crafty, she didn’t really have hobbies, and — even though she loved having Thanksgiving — she wasn’t even a great cook. But she was always there for us. That’s what I think of when I think of my mom. She was there when we got home from school, every day. That was really important to her.”

Chris kept her own wardrobe neutral, and such were the sweaters she left behind. Susan provided me with three sweaters in different shades of gray (one with sweet pale blue snowflakes) and a fourth one, cream, from Marshall Field’s that Susan recalls her mom wearing more than any other.

I decided to anchor those three grays at the heart of each blanket and surround them with Chris’ favorite colors. I would have the cream encircle and embrace the whole, like a mother taking a child in her arms. Finally, I would add a heart: such a simple symbol but unrivaled in representing the depth of love of a mom for her family. I laid out the two sister blankets as mirror images of each other.

And they were all ready in time for Christmas. For Susan and Cathy, with love ♥

“Heart[h] and Home”

Two blankets, 59″ x 76″ each

These blankets already have homes.

A Beautiful Intervention

October 17, 2014October 21, 2014thegreensheep 6 Comments

Tim and Stephanie were pretty sure they were finished having children. They had one son and one daughter — a comfortable family. And then out of the blue Stephanie had the distinct impression they should have a third.

“Why don’t you pray about it?” recommended Tim, who places his confidence in God but was skeptical about another child. Stephanie’s sense about it only increased, but she knew that wasn’t what Tim was hoping for. One evening in front of television, Stephanie suggested perhaps Tim ought to join in on the prayer. Tim was respectful but still rattled by the entire idea. “Okay, I will,” Tim responded, “but I think it’s going to take a sign to actually persuade me.”

“What kind of a sign?” asked Stephanie.
Tim replied, “I don’t know — maybe a burning a bush.”

They turned back to the television and just moments later, big as day on the screen before them, was a bush consumed in flames. Tim couldn’t believe his eyes.

Before long, Stephanie was pregnant.

Early blood tests to check the baby’s health, however, indicated there might be problems. Stephanie was told to prepare for a possible miscarriage. On the day of her OB appointment to listen for the baby’s heartbeat for the first time, she feared there would be none. Stephanie paused in the parking lot to text a friend from her women’s small group at church. “Please pray. I’m going in to hear the heartbeat.” That friend started a chain to pass the request for prayer on to many more people. In the doctor’s office, Stephanie heard her little one, alive and well.

At the beginning of her pregnancy, Stephanie was being followed by her regular endocrinologist for a long-standing thyroid imbalance. Although he was out-of-state, he knew her well and continued to monitor her meds from a distance. He told her it would be best to stay on her regular meds until the third trimester. But abruptly and confusingly, insurance denied medication coverage and Stephanie had to discontinue these meds much earlier than planned. With the change, Stephanie quickly chose a local endocrinologist to now follow her through the pregnancy.

At one appointment, the new endocrinologist felt something foreign in Stephanie’s neck and requested a biopsy. The test revealed two fast-growing cancerous tumors on her thyroid. Surgery could not be put off. So when the baby was at about 28 weeks, Stephanie — less concerned about the cancer (a very treatable kind, she says) than about the effects of the anesthesia on her baby — went in for the operation. She says there was a palpable, peaceful presence in the room; she was certain that God was caring for her and her baby. The surgeon removed the now-three tumors and some lymph nodes.

It is not lost on Stephanie and Tim that had she not gotten pregnant, had there been no need to see an endocrinologist face-to-face, this cancer would most likely have gone undetected until it was too late to treat it effectively. And the medication she couldn’t take because of insurance denial? It would have caused the tumors to grow even more quickly. In retrospect, Stephanie is incredibly grateful for the sequence of events.

Several weeks after surgery, Stephanie began to show signs of pre-term labor. On her way to the obstetrician’s office one day due to early contractions, Stephanie once again paused in the parking lot to text her friend in the small group. The call for prayer once again went out to many. Within 6 hours, labor stopped and there was no dilation.

Finally, at 38 weeks, just as scheduled, little Noah was delivered. He was healthy as could be.

Stephanie, who has been telling me Noah’s story by phone, finally stops. “All of it –” she says, “It is a beautiful intervention by God.”

I have one last question for her, because I had heard bits and pieces of her story earlier through her women’s small group who ordered the owl blanket as a gift for her. On the phone I ask, “So, in addition to the burning bush…wasn’t there something about a rainbow?”

“Oh! There is!” says Stephanie. “At the beginning of the summer, before my surgery, we took our kids up to Kalahari in the Wisconsin Dells. It’s their favorite place to go. At that point, we knew we were having a boy but hadn’t decided on a name yet. We asked the kids for their input too. They came up with some hilarious things! But while we were there, we settled on the name Noah. And as we drove home from that trip, we saw one, two, three, FOUR separate rainbows. Our kids were so excited about seeing the rainbows right after we chose the name ‘Noah.’ They told us: ‘It’s like a sign that our baby is part of God’s big story!'”

Noah, you certainly are part of God’s big story. Welcome, little guy, to this beautiful world and into your loving — and amazed! — family. Already, God has shown his faithfulness to you.

“Whooo’s Sleepy?” (34″ x 40″)

This blanket already has a home.

“The Sand and the Sea”

June 27, 2014July 12, 2014thegreensheep 12 Comments

Here is an all-time favorite sensation of mine, start to finish:

Spread a beach towel on warm summer sand, sit down on it and scrunch around until the sand underneath conforms to your body. Lay down. Drift into semi-consciousness to the sound of the surf sploshing onto the sand and being sucked backwards. If there’s a crowd, listen to their voices swell and swing different directions with the breeze. Fall asleep.

I know, I know. You’re wincing because of the sunburn. I just didn’t know much better when I began this habit as a kid in California. So here’s the grown-up me: Avoid painful developments by employing advance planning and self-discipline, specifically with SPF 50 sunblock.

I no longer live near an ocean. (In fact, we now live in a Midwestern town whose name ends in “Lake.” Not that I’m complaining! But it does help explain the bobbing boats in these photos.)

Still, I have memories of enough beach-naps to keep me happy for some time. Plus I have a brother and family in San Clemente, where crashing waves set the ambiance perfectly. And I have two daughters and a son-in-law on Michigan’s west coast, where dune sand creates gorgeous sleeping spots. No shortage of lovely beaches to visit, right in my family.

Sandi, who custom-ordered this blanket, has beach memories tucked away as well, although she is currently a fellow-Midwesterner. But she will always love the beach and the way it makes her feel. (Her name IS Sandi, after all.)

When Sandi first wrote me, she said, “I am a beach lover! My favorite colors are ocean blues, sky blues and shades of turquoise blue-greens. Those colors simply make me feel better.” She now makes her home in the middle of Michigan and, part-time, allows her beach memories to inform her own creative design work with jewelry. The name of her business? Sandibeach Jewelry! (Her website is currently under construction.)

In the mid-20th century, Anne Morrow Lindbergh spent some time by the sea and wrote a small book about thoughts it coaxed from her. In large part, she recorded reflections on her life at that stage as a wife and a mother of five. She called it Gift from the Sea.

The thing I want to share here is her description of the effects of time near the sea. She expresses it far more beautifully than I did above:

“Rollers on the beach, wind in the pines, the slow flapping of herons across sand dunes, drown out the hectic rhythms of city and suburb, time tables and schedules. One falls under their spell, relaxes, stretches out prone. … Patience, patience, patience, is what the sea teaches. Patience and faith. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach – waiting for a gift from the sea.”

Sandi, may this blanket — with its calm ocean blues, its hot-sand whites, and its sparkle of sun on the surf — carry you to that pleasant place where the beach can present to you its gifts and its wonders.