Last night, our neighborhood launched the second year of Monday Night Neighborhood Fitness Group in the parking lot. We had children and adults jumping rope while others biked, skated, threw football and Frisbee, walked a circuit around the perimeter, flew the big turtle kite, or raced up the steep hill beside the parking lot.
From above, I wondered if we looked like one huge mass of criss-crossing elements filling in the space. We wove in and out, passing one another.
I thought of darning.
Darning is the technique one uses to repair a hole in fabric or knitting. I learned that a knitter makes a framework around the hole and then uses a crisscrossed pattern to fill the gap. My friend alerted me to this concept two days ago when I mentioned that the beautiful socks she knit me last year were beyond repair with two gaping holes in the heels. She says, matter-of-factly, "I'll just darn them for you."
Darning reminds me of how scabs form on the body. Platelets, fibrin, and plasma all work together to form a web around the wound--filling it in and sealing the hole.
There's something beautiful in the webbing and criss-crossing that must take place to repair a hole or a wound. It happens when we repair fabric or our own bodies, but it also happens in our lives.
I thought about my community and all the ways we hold each other in place, all the ways we intersect, gather in, unite, and fill each others lives. We choose to deliberately criss-cross. We are wound healers when we come together like this.
Something was darned in my heart last night--some gaping hole I hadn't remembered was there. I only played for an hour. The sun set upon us, shining gold through the trees in the distance, and there I was, jumping double dutch (making a fool of myself) with these folks I'm living life with. We aren't related by blood. We were strangers a few years ago--some a few days ago. Now, we are something else. I'll gather on the asphalt every week with these people: platelets, fibrin, and plasma that circle, web, and heal.