The last couple of days on the road have, to say the least, presented a bit of challenge when it comes to working on my crochet and the recent remnants I found in need of rehab.

Unlike Toonces, the driving cat, my dog Clooney does not know how to drive (and in fact has never expressed an interest in learning), so that responsibly has fallen to me.

Which means that I haven’t had a whole lot of time to crochet. In fact, all I accomplished over the past two days was to weave in the ends on these two lightly textured crochet squares:

These squares originally their lives as pieces for a crochet afghan for my youngest son. He was  eight, and at the time, orange was his favorite color. By the time I finished work on the project, he was a junior in high school, and he had moved on to other colors. I found a suitable home for the completed afghan, but there were still left over squares from the project that had yet to be assigned a purpose, and over the course of the past sixteen months as I have rehabbed what has turned out to be a huge assortment of crochet remnants, I have been struck by the power of purpose.

The many disparate pieces I have been rehabbing began their lives with purpose, but as I worked on the larger projects they were intended to be a part of, their reason for being seemingly vanished, and when the project was completed the bit and pieces were packed away in bags for some other day, and I am glad that that some other day has finally arrived.

As I sort through the bins and the bags and the bags in bins, I have found that while I can restore them to their original purpose, I can reclaim purpose for them, and that in the act of doing that, I give my own work meaning that would have slipped away.

I am excited that I am nearing the end of this project of rehabbing so many pieces, I but I also plan to check every six months so that I don’t ever have quite this many pieces to rehab.