The Urge to Knit Socks on the Second Day

On Friday night, I wrote this Facebook post which I then shortened into a tweet:  "I have this strange urge to knit socks for the war effort. I realize that there is no such war effort yet, and that there are factory produced socks that will be much better for any war effort yet to come than anything that I can knit. But still, the urge to knit is strong--and I prefer to crochet, so I find it even stranger that I have a yearning to knit."

Various friends responded to remind me of the other things I might knit/crochet for other populations that need care, or other ways, like planting seeds, I could show defiant hope in the face of geopolitical madness.  Indeed, we did contribute to a fundraising campaign of a teenager that we know at church who is raising funds for further schooling.  Later this week-end, I will give money to Lutheran World Relief, as I always do, when there's a crisis.

But giving money seems like such a small thing to do, even as I know that money to assist refugees will be important.  I realize that no one needs the lumpy socks I would create, but it would keep my hands busy.  I am not going to fly to Europe to make my way east to fight.  I am a middle-aged woman with arthritic feet and limited ability with weapons.  I am not going to be the freedom fighter/spy who defeats Vladimir Putin; I do not have that level of skill or beauty.

Of course, it's not going to be a "normal" war, whatever that means.  It will not be won with socks or victory gardens or spies who pass secrets--maybe.  In an opinion piece in The New York Times, Thomas L. Friedman says, "This is the first war that will be covered on TikTok by super-empowered individuals armed only with smartphones, so acts of brutality will be documented and broadcast worldwide without any editors or filters. On the first day of the war, we saw invading Russian tank units unexpectedly being exposed by Google maps, because Google wanted to alert drivers that the Russian armor was causing traffic jams."

Last night we went to the top floor of the parking garage to watch the sun set.  My spouse brought his violin, and I brought our copy of With One Voice, which has the music to "Dona Nobis Pacem."  I thought of people playing their instruments in the  rubble of past cities torn apart by war (Sarajevo?  Did it really happen or was it a scene from a movie?).  I watched people leaving their offices and other people arriving for Friday night festivities.  My spouse played his violin, I prayed, and the sun set on the second day of this war-like situation.