It's a warm sunny mid September afternoon. I sit on the back patio with my knitting needles in hand, the yarn gently wrapped around my fingers as the needle slides in and out of the stitches.  I purl and wrap and knit keeping tention, not too tight, not too loose on the cotton strand. The heat from the sun warming my back as a slight breeze ruffles papers and leaves.  The freeway is humming with a reminder that life is rushing on all around me. Yet I am content to sit here, pausing and being still, taking time to think, reflect and focus.  The movement of the needle as I insert it into the stitch, catch the yarn and pull it on the other needle in a loop is calming.  I almost reflexively work the yarn in the pattern, purl, knit, knit, knit, knit, knit,knit, and again. I think about the countless women who have come before me and done this very same activity only for necessity instead of enjoyment. Strange but I feel connected and part of something. That connection is something I feel when baking bread or making pie crusts from scratch. It's a gentle activity and one that allows me to engage my mind in other areas.  With each purl or knit or yarn over, with each stir of  the batter or cutting of butter into the flour I feel connected to life to other women before me in the simplest of ways. I am given time to ponder, to focus, and to pray.  It gives me a pause in the craziness of my life to quiet my soul. And so on a Sunday afternoon while the world rushes by or watches football, I am enjoying the outdoors in the simplest of ways, and I am being re energized by a connection that no one sees but me.