Potatoes to lace 

-Knots in history-

                Bridget leaned forward and carefully studied the tiny stitches. She ran her finger along the thread of tiny knots she had just crochet. Finally she shook her head with a disappointed sigh. “Must be perfect.” She mumbled under her breath and began to pull the stitches out again. She dropped her crochet hook into her lap and tucked a red curl behind her ear.

                She looked up suddenly at the sound of her mother’s quick footsteps as she walked the pathway to the house. Bridget straightened up and looked to the door from her place beside the fireplace.

                “Bridget!” Her mother called. Her thick Irish accent mingled with anger and annoyance. Bridget turned and tucked the crochet lace she had been working on into her sewing basket just as the door opened and her mother stepped inside. The handkerchief on her red hair was near falling off and her skirt was a mess of dust and wrinkles. “I know, I know Mother.” Bridget said, still tucking the lace away carefully, her eyes showing  evidence of the annoyance she felt at being interrupted from her crocheting.

                “Oh Bridget.” Her mother breathed exhausted, wiping her hand across her forehead. “You know we need your help. Your sixteen now and I still hav’ to remind you to get your chores done before you sew.” Bridget let out a sigh. “I’m not sewing, I’m crocheting.” She replied, her accent an exact echo of her mother’s.

                Her mother waved her off. “Darling, we must work. Harder than we ever have. The famine is so bad, your father and I’ve got  nowhere else to turn. Our whole year’s wages were staked on that potato crop and now… God help us.” She turned to the kitchen. She closed her tired eyes for a moment and said a silent but desperate prayer.

Bridget stood and gathered up her sewing basket. Her whole heart ached for her poor mother. Her face colored with shame that she had disobeyed.  The famine had taken everything short of their very faith and love. And even that had been tested. For families all across the country. This was all they had left.

                Bridget stiffened her shoulders. Determined to be strong for her mother, she walked to the kitchen and stood in the doorway. “Mother….I’m sorry.” She spoke softly. Her mother stood at the kitchen sink, her head bowed. As Bridget stepped closer she noticed the sound of her mother’s soft crying. Her own tears threatening to escape, she sat the basket down and gently lifted a white lace shawl she had made. She unfolded it and placed it around her mother’s shoulders. 

                “Mother, I know I should be helpin’ you and father. I know that. But I only take up my thread and my crochet hook to stitch a minute or so. Only hours later do I realize how long it’s been.”  Her eyes lit with an idea. “Why don’t you try it mother? I’ve learned how to crochet this lace only recently. I’ve even come up with this flower pattern myself! Oh Mother it will surly take your mind off things.”

                Her mother looked down at the meticulously laced shawl around her shoulders. “Flowers.” she smiled. “They are beautiful.” Her eyes seemed dreamy as she studied the lace.  Shaking her head she straightened up and wiped her eyes. “No, there is not much time to sit around here, let alone crochet.” She turned and lifted the shawl. “No mother. You keep it. I was going to give it to you anyways.” Bridget offered a smile.

                Her mother nodded and walked towards the door. She lifted a basket and reached for the door. “You be sure the children get to their chores just as soon as they get home while I bring some supper to your father.” And with that she was off.

                Bridget watched her pat her handkerchief on her hair down as she walked down the pathway, then she lifted her sewing basket and carried it to her room. She shoved it under her bed and determined never to so much as look at it till this famine was over and her family’s money troubles were behind them. She said a quick prayer before getting to work on her chores.

                Later that afternoon, Bridget watched the sun set as she washed the dishes. “William, mind your little sisters!” She was calling as the front door burst open and her mother and father came inside. Her mother practically tripped over her long brown skirt as he rushed into the kitchen. “Oh Bridget! Praise the Lord!” she cried, taking Bridget into a hug.

                “Mother?”  Bridget found herself catching her mother’s contagious smile. “What is it Mother?” she asked, drying her hands quickly on her skirt.

                “How much more lace do you hav’ finished?” her mother asked quickly, her eyes lit with excitement.  “I…I…What? My lace?” Bridget stammered in surprise. Her mother placed her hands on Bridget’s shoulders. “As I passed through town, a woman asked about my lace shawl…” Bridget looked down, noticing her mother’s shawl was missing. Her mother continued to smile joyfully, “She bought it! And she wants more! She’s never seen such flowers! Three others asked about it too! Oh Bridget! The Lord has blessed! The Lord has blessed!”

                Bridget laughed though tears as she pulled her mother into a hug, her family gathered round. “The Lord has blessed!”

               

While Bridget and her family are fictional characters, the events couldn’t be more real. The potato famine in Ireland in the mid 18^th century was far spread. It is a fact that many girls sold their crochet work to supply an income for their families. Irish crochet lace gained in popularity, though it was meticulous and takes more time than ordinary crocheting. It was common for people to come up with their own new pattern such as a leaf or a flower or type of fruit. It even became a common practice to hide all traces of your crochet work when someone came to visit to be sure your new pattern was kept secret within the family! Today handmade Irish crochet from the time of the great famine is both valuable and rare. And there are even some pieces on exhibit in museums!

                As we learn from Bridget, and many other families of the time of the famine, God provides a way. Always.  When the potato crop failed and all hope seemed lost. Many, many poor and middle class families were saved from starvation. If fact, some could say that the people were saved by their ability to crochet lace. But ultimately it is God who saved the people. When we see no way out and we’re caught between a rock and a hard place, God will always come through. And He can use whatever He chooses to rescue us. There are a number of cases of this very thing in the Bible, and thought out  all history. The best part is, He’s still stepping  in and making a way for  our lives today! Perhaps the blessing you’ve been praying for is right under your nose right now!