It has been twenty years, two decades, since I first met this young man, a first grader then, at the Elementary School where I was blessed to be the counselor. Yesterday, I saw him again. Here’s why I just had to give him a copy of Knit Back Together.
Meet Levi, the boy whose personal experience helped shape my story.
When he transferred to our school in the early 2000s, it took us awhile to figure out how to help him navigate when big, uncomfortable feelings visited him. Around that time, our third-grade knitting club was 100-members strong. I’d read some of the research around the therapeutic benefits of knitting, but age six was a little too young yet for our Knit-For-Service club. But … he wasn’t too young to be a helper!
So I taught Levi how to roll the balls of yarn from skeins and guess what? It had this incredible calming effect on him, much like meditation does for people. If his lid was flipping, we’d co-regulate by rolling yarn together while we talked. He was living what the research suggested.
Levi stayed with me at Westwood through the third grade, though he went next to Bales Intermediate for grades four and five, his story stayed on my heart beyond our time together. When I heard that his grandmother had passed away, I went to the visitation; when I ran into him in the sixth grade, he asked if I still had some of those “sticks” and I sent them to the Junior High in a Knit Kit for him. I’d see him at band events and was so proud that he was playing clarinet like I did, and just a few years ago, I saw him at the Pet Store where I volunteered and he shared that he’d become a father.
I still had Levi on my heart as I wrote Knit Back Together. I kept hoping that one day I’d see him again, so I could tell him that he was a seed of inspiration for my story, and that I’d named my main character after him.
Yesterday was that glorious reunion day.
I saw him at an Easter Egg hunt. With pride and joy, I told him that my newest book was based on some of what I’d learned from our time together, and that I’d used his name to tell this tale. His smile told me all that I needed to know, and he said he’d like to have a copy.
That’s where serendipity stepped in. You see, I don’t typically carry books with me, but Leah had insisted that she bring that book in the car on our way to the egg hunt. So yeah, I had a copy and my husband offered to go and snag it while we waited in line for pictures with the bunnies.
As an aside, these adorable bunnies are being raised by another (former) student, Christian, another fun reconnection with a child from my past.
Anyway, when we handed Levi the book, he told me that he still has those knitting needles.
How long does a gift of compassion matter? For Levi, it’s twenty years … and counting.
Barbara Gruener 