I recently learned that getting a message to someone sometimes requires drastic measures. In this case, punishing my grandchildren for what they did to my wife would not be a great lesson. To make amends, I gave them a delicate task. I, Clarence, 74, have always known that my wife Jenny, 73, is the kindest and gentlest soul. This was especially true for our grandchildren. Every year, she makes sure to knit beautiful, intricate sweaters for her birthdays and Christmas. It is a tradition she puts her heart into. She often starts new projects well in advance of the event. This was done to ensure that each child receives something special, made just for them. For their birthdays, she makes stuffed animals for the little ones. Or a blanket for the older grandchildren. Last week, on a recent trip, we decided to visit our local thrift store. We were looking for vintage pots for our garden project. What should have been a leisurely excursion turned into a heartbreaking moment that I will never forget! One that I wish I could erase from our collective memory. As we walked through the halls, my wife stopped. Her eyes caught on something that made her freeze. “What… what is this? Am I seeing things?” she asked, pointing with a trembling finger. There, among countless other discarded items, were the sweaters she had knitted for our grandchildren! They were all for SALE! One in particular—a blue and gray striped one—was undoubtedly the one Jenny had made for our oldest granddaughter last Christmas. The look on her face was unmistakable. Her heart sank as she reached out and gently touched the fabric. She tried to smile as she fought back tears and hid her pain. “It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice barely a whisper, “I understand how kids might be embarrassed to wear Grandma’s sweater.” I could barely keep my composure seeing her so hurt as I pulled her closer for a hug.
No, this wasn’t right, and unfortunately for our family, I wasn’t as forgiving as my wife. What they did was thoughtless, devastating, and downright cruel! While she managed to keep her composure, I seethed with outrage! That night, after making sure she was asleep, I went back to the thrift store and bought every single item she had made! I was determined to make this right. Without saying a word to my wife, I decided to teach our grandchildren a valuable life lesson! One that would teach them to be grateful for what they receive in the future. The next day, I put together a care package for each grandchild. In each one, I included yarn, knitting needles, and simple knitting instructions. I also included a photo of the sweater they had thrown away and a note, my words clear and stern: “I know what you did. Now you better knit your own presents!” My note continued: “Grandma and I are coming over for dinner, and you better wear her presents. Or I’ll tell your parents and you won’t see any more presents, not for Christmas or birthdays.” The reactions were as varied as you might expect! Some grandchildren called and apologized sheepishly. They admitted that they hadn’t realized how much these gifts meant. Others remained silent, probably embarrassed or not knowing what to say. But the message had reached the country. The day of the dinner arrived and the mood was full of anticipation. One by one, our grandchildren arrived. Everyone was donning sweaters that were once considered unworthy. I have to be honest, some of the work they did was incredibly bad! I couldn’t help but laugh at the long hand and the one short drawing! While others were too big, it must be said that some sweaters were abandoned part way through the project! Gift Baskets
None of the replies did justice to MY Jenny’s original work. The air cleared as apologies were offered, with genuine remorse in their eyes. “We are so sorry for taking your gifts for granted, Grandma,” our eldest granddaughter said as her parents looked on. “We promise never to give away anything you lovingly created for us again.” They had tried their hand at knitting. This led her to recognize the effort and love that went into each stitch. “Grandpa, that was harder than I thought,” our oldest grandson admitted. As he spoke, he kept pulling