Heart break

I knit quite faithfully on the shawl this weekend.  I am a wee bit surprised at that but I really do want to get this done so I can wear it.   It is the perfect shawl wearing weather right now.  Cool in the mornings and evenings, but warm enough in the day to be without.

The end of May.  Sigh.  It is the end of May and I still feel as if I barely touched all the new knitting I planned for this year.  Sigh.  

There are so many things in the WIP bins and I am really quite determined to get that cleared up a bit.  But it does rather suck the life out of the rest of the knitting.  Particular projects are certainly feeling like they have caused the hold up and I am debating about keeping them going.  I did that once before.  I had a good hard look at everything in my WIP bins and if I did not really love it, I took it apart and set it aside.  This time, I have looked but I really like everything in the bins.  There is only one project that I might take apart and only because I am just not that in love with the yarn.  I love the project itself just not the yarn.  I would easily knit the sweater in a different yarn.  

Feeling so stuck in my knitting is not really what a hobby is supposed to make you feel.  If and I do mean if knitting could be considered a hobby by me.  More a vocation perhaps.

Or maybe it is the weekends news of the children and a researchers belief that every residential school had many children that were buried, unnamed, unmarked uncounted, unrecorded.  It is what the stories of the people who suffered the residential schools tell.  These 215  found unmarked, together, means that it was known and sanctioned by the operators and that it was known by the people who buried them, and doctors for the schools and all those who ought to have cared for them simply as human beings if not as innocent chidren....   As if their lives simply did not matter at all.  My heart is utterly broken by the ugliness of this history we pass to our children and our grandchildren.  My broken heart is rather meaningless against the many, many families of those who bore this sorrow of these lost children and who bore the real story of the residential schools.