The Gift I Meant to Make You
On Giving and Almost Receiving
Most mornings my counter has something sitting on it that hints at what lies ahead. Sometimes it is a recipe I flagged to revisit later, a few written tasks of various sorts, or a guest list for the next Bowen event. I think I have come to know that prepping and hosting is my love language. It shows up in my habits that repeat themselves throughout the year, especially as the holiday season approaches, like the holiday gift-giving spreadsheet (no joke) and the early menu planning. It’s giving season, and I want everyone participating to feel happy and looked after. Planning ahead has always felt like a simple way to begin that care.
These patterns have shaped how people see me; organized, with an open schedule and nothing pulling at me, even though most of the planning happens long before there is anything to announce, and occurs within the array of other jobs and projects that fill my days. In the midst of all the demands, I love the escape of thinking through seating plans, planning holiday décor, and making grocery lists – it simply gives me a sense of calm. I like being ready, and I also like saying yes when something spontaneous appears, and together those habits have made me a dependable force.
And here’s the funny part: for all my lists, spreadsheets, and prep work, completing my knitting projects rarely keeps to a schedule. Hosting I can organize on a grid. Yarn, not so much. This is probably why my attempts at handmade gifts always remind me that giving isn’t only about being prepared, and doesn’t begin with an end product – it’s about letting something unfold at its own pace, even when that pace exposes my limits.
The Project that Got Away
All of that perceived organization leaves me slightly embarrassed to admit that a knitted Christmas gift I started almost a year ago is still nowhere near finished. Not forgotten. Not neglected. Just unfinished in the most literal way. I picked the yarn, cast on, and then life filled up in the way it always does.
But the real issue is not incompletion, but the fact that I tend to start too many knitting pieces at once. I see yarn that I love and believe I need, or a pattern that feels right for me or someone else, and before I know it I am juggling multiple pieces with the ambition of someone who has far more knitting hours than I actually do.
In an effort to complete it, this current project has been everywhere with me over the past year: parts of Canada, Europe, and Latin America. It is small, so it has been tucked into carry-on bags, brought on visits, moved from room to room at home, and placed beside me on countless evenings when I thought I might get a few rows done. It has waited through entire seasons.
The Intention Behind It
What I keep coming back to is this. The unfinished gift is not a sign of procrastination. It is a sign of how often I think about the people I knit for, and the volume of knitting ideas I have for giving to others. Most of us carry around things we mean to do for someone: a message we’ve been meaning to send, a plan we want to follow through on, an idea for a small gesture that keeps getting pushed to the edge of the day. These intentions are a kind of care on their own, even if the timing is imperfect.
What Actually Counts
So here is the question that keeps coming to my mind when it comes to DIY presents: does a homemade gift only count once it is finished? What if the intention itself carries weight? I think about this a lot when I’m prepping for gatherings, too – how much of hosting, the giving of sorts, happens long before anyone actually arrives. The lists, the grocery run, the thought you put into who might sit comfortably across from whom. Most of the care happens well before there is anything to show for it.
The same is true with knitting. The moment you see something for someone and imagine it in their hands – could that be what matters most? The spark of love that makes you begin in the first place. Maybe that matters more than I allow.
Until then this yarn bundle sits exactly where I last put it, and maybe it will see more of the world before it is done. It has already travelled more miles than most finished gifts ever do, and it continues to remind me that effort and care do not always follow a tidy calendar. Sometimes they move at the pace of real life.
If this season finds you knitting, cooking, hosting, planning, or simply trying your best, I hope it brings warmth to your heart and to your table. Here is to gifts that come in many forms, finished or not. Wishing you a happy holiday season.
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