I made a mistake in my shawl. It is a mistake right in the icord edging that I cannot fix without frogging it back at least 40 rows. 
Since I tend towards perfectionism (understatement of the year), I was agonizing over wanting the shawl to be perfect and yet not wanting to lose what little recent progress I’ve made on this shawl.
Fortunately for me, I discovered this mistake on a Wednesday, and on Wednesdays I just happen to lead a weekly Knitting Support Group, a group filled with truly kind, funny, generous women. As none of them are shy about sharing their opinions, they were very vocal about what they thought I should do with this mistake.
Although I didn’t take an official poll, I’m pretty sure at least 85 percent of them thought I should leave the mistake in (with proclamations that they couldn’t even see it, that I should inject more purl ridges and call them a “design feature,” or that I could just cover it with a shawl pin). The rest agreed I should take it back and make it perfect. Regardless of what they thought I should do, the interactions were hilarious and honest and fun.
Even as they were voicing their opinions, I’m about 98 percent confident they all knew I was going to take it back no matter what they thought. And, honestly, I’m kind of proud of my crazy, knowing they knew I would demand perfection from myself.
What made this week’s group especially interesting, though, was as I was pondering how important this crazy level of perfectionism was to me, my 16 year old daughter who also attends Knitting Support Group arrived and was visibly upset about an interaction she had had over a decision she had made and in making that choice, she had disappointed someone. My daughter had done nothing wrong, she was just wisely creating her boundaries and recognizing her limits, and yet she was agonizing over having let someone down. She is used to making everyone happy; she is used to being perfect.
I had plenty to say to try and buoy her with confidence in her decision, but yet again this amazing group of women stepped up, becoming her Mama Bears, supporting, consoling, and emotionally embracing her. It was exactly the kind of community you want on your side, at your back. It was especially heartwarming to see them all at my daughter’s back.
It really was a “thing of beauty.” Right then, right there, I knew I couldn’t take my shawl back. That mistake had now become a story. It had become a reminder of this wonderful group of women supporting me, supporting my daughter. It had become a symbol of accepting my humanity in my imperfections.
I do not expect perfection from any of my knitters, and I am really going to try to release the expectation of constant perfection in myself.
Because, really, sometimes it’s the mistakes that make something truly beautiful.
Great to hear from you, Debbie! Hope you’re healing well and that you’re having luck with your little socks!
You are most awesome, Pat. Thanks for always making me laugh–and for having my girl’s back!
So thrilled you were there, too, and glad you felt so welcome; you just fit right in perfectly! I look forward to seeing you again soon. 🙂
I am so happy I was there Wed, what a wonderful group of ladies! Karyn, you are truly my Knit Hero! I feel so blessed to be a part of this group.
I would have bet money that you would have taken it out!! You are the best! I love being part of the group. Thanks for all the encouragement and acceptance I feel there. Love you ladies! Tell Anna, I’ll always have her back.
What a great story! What amazing insight. I can’t wait to get back to the Wed group. You are right, they are a special breed.
Oh my gosh, Mary Ann. You are one of the nicest women in my life! Thank you for all of your support–and your words to Anna on Wednesday. So thankful for that fiddly star to have introduced you into my life!
Knit Hero is so appropriately named. Our hero on so many different levels. It is an honor to know you and the Wednesday women. And to think it was a star that led my way.