I learned recently that getting a message through to someone sometimes requires drastic measures. In this instance, getting my grandkids grounded for what they did to my wife wasn’t going to be a strong enough lesson. To redeem themselves, I gave them a tricky
task. I, Clarence, 74, have always known my wife, Jenny, 73, to be the kindest and sweetest soul. This was true especially when it comes to our grandchildren. Yearly, without fail, she knits beautiful, intricate sweaters for their birthdays and Christmas. It’s a tradition she pours her heart into. She’d often start on new projects well before the occasion.
This was done to ensure each child gets something special, made just for them. For their birthdays, she’d make plush toys for the little ones. Or a blanket for the older grandchildren.Last week, during a recent trip we decided to visit our local thrift store. We were looking for some vintage pots for our garden project. What should’ve been a
leisurely outing turned into a heart-wrenching moment I’ll never forget!A moment I wish we could erase from our collective memories. As we wandered through the aisles, my wife paused. Her eyes locked onto something that made her freeze in place. “Wha…what’s that? Am I seeing things?” she asked while pointing a shaky finger. There, hanging among countless other discarded items, were the sweaters she had knitted for our grandkids! They were all for SALE! One in particular—a blue and grey striped one—was unmistakably the one Jenny made last Christmas for our oldest granddaughter. The look on her face
was unmistakable. Her heart broke as she reached out and gently touched the fabric. She tried to smile while holding back tears, masking her pain. “It’s okay,” she murmured, her voice hardly a whisper: “I understand that kids might be embarrassed to wear grandma’s sweaters.” I could barely hold my composure, seeing her so hurt as I brought her in closer for a hug. No, this wasn’t okay, and unluckily for our family, I wasn’t as forgiving as my wife. What they did was thoughtless, devastating, and downright cruel! While she
managed to keep her cool, I found myself seething with indignation! That evening, after ensuring she was asleep, I returned to the thrift store and bought back every single item she had made! I was determined to make this right. Without saying a word to my wife, I resolved myself to teach our grandchildren a valuable life lesson! One that would teach them to be grateful for what they receive in the future.The next day, I prepared a package for each grandkid. Inside each, I included wool, knitting needles, and a simple set of knitting instructions. I also placed a photo of the sweater they had discarded and a note, my words clear and stern: “I know what you did. Now, you better knit your presents
yourself!”My note continued, “Grandma and I are coming for dinner, and you better be wearing her presents. Or I will tell your parents, and you won’t see any presents anymore, not for Christmas or birthdays.” The reactions were as varied as you might expect! Some of the grandchildren called, sheepishly apologizing. They confessed that they hadn’t realized how much these gifts meant. Others were silent, likely embarrassed or unsure of what to say. But the message had hit home. Dinner day came, and the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. One by one, our grandkids arrived. Each one donning the sweaters that were once deemed unworthy. I have to be honest here, some of the work
they did was hilariously bad! I couldn’t help but laugh at the one long hand and one short design! While others were too big, it was clear some sweaters were abandoned mid-project! None of the recreations did justice to MY Jenny’s original work.The air cleared as apologies were made, with genuine remorse in their eyes. “We are so sorry for taking your gifts for granted, Grandma,” said our oldest grandchild as their parents looked on. “We promise to never again give away anything you’ve created for us with love.” They had tried their hands at knitting. This led them to realize the effort and love that went into each stitch. “Grandpa, this was harder than I thought,” confessed our oldest grandson. As he spoke he kept pulling at the sleeves of his hastily knitted attempt. “Yeah, I’m sorry, Grandma,” chimed in another, her eyes wide. “It took me hours to get part of a scarf
done!” My wife, bless her heart, forgave them, embracing each one with her usual warmth and affection. “I can’t believe you got them to do all this!” Jenny turned to me after showering our grandchildren with love. “I had to do something, my angel. I couldn’t let them think your presents were mere items that could be thrown out.” We embraced as she now shared her warm heart with me, leaving me certain that I had done the right thing. As we sat down to dinner, the mood was lighter, and the laughter grew. This tough lesson brought everyone closer. It reminded us of the value of appreciation and recognition of each other’s efforts. In the end, our grandchildren learned more than how to knit a simple stitch; they learned about respect, love, and the beauty of a handmade gift. My wife’s spirits lifted, seeing her efforts finally appreciated. I learned just how strong her influence was on knitting our family closer.As we finished our meal, the grandkids had one last thing to add, “We promise to cherish our handmade gifts forever.”
A vow that warmed my wife’s heart more than any sweater ever could! Before leaving, I told them:“I have one last surprise for you all!” I dashed to the car and came back with many large plastic bags. “Open them,” I instructed our grandkids. They all beamed with joy as they found all the sweaters that Jenny had gifted them. They were like changed people as they changed out of their bad attempts at knitting and into the perfect creations my wife had made them. “Thanks, grandma and grandpa!” they shouted as they embraced us in a loving hug before our departure. In the following story, the person who needed to learn a valuable lesson was one woman’s husband. He’d gotten into the bad habit of buying things, big and small, without her consent, until she put her foot down
