The old woman was an expert knitter. Everyone in the little town loved her knitting. People came from far and wide to admire the beautiful work she created.

One day, a little girl visited the old woman’s house and asked for knitting lessons. The old woman was thrilled, of course. But the little girl was exponentially more excited—the child looked like she was going to detonate right there on the woman’s doorstep.

“PLEASE TEACH ME TO KNIT!” said the child in all caps.

“Of course,” the woman replied. “I will teach you to knit next week.”

“BUT CAN’T YOU TEACH ME TODAY?” the girl said, once again with the caps lock engaged.

“I’m very busy today, child. Visit next week, and we will begin.”

That week went by sooooo S-L-O-W. By the time the girl arrived at the old woman’s house for her first lesson she was quivering with excitement, she could hardly remain still.

The woman welcomed her inside, then handed the little girl a newspaper.

“What’s this?” asked the little girl.

“I want you to read the paper aloud while I knit.”

“Read?” said the girl. “But what about my lesson?”

“Soon you will learn,” said the old woman.

So the girl read the newspaper as the old woman knit a beautiful sweater such as had never been seen. The girl kept stealing glances at the woman’s magnificent handiwork, watching and observing.

For the next week’s lesson, the girl arrived on the old woman’s doorstep, bouncing with unrelenting enthusiasm. She even brought her own knitting needles this time.

“I’M READY FOR MY LESSON!” The girl was almost leaping as she spoke.

The old woman smiled. Then she handed the girl a mop.

“What’s this?” said the girl. “What about my lesson?”

“Soon you will learn,” said the old woman.

The girl spent the entire day mopping the floors. Meantime, the woman knitted the most intricately patterned piece of work the girl had ever seen, with no dropped stitches, and beautifully consistent uniformity.

This went on for a long time. Every time the girl visited, the old woman would dole out some household chore. A chore that most definitely WASN’T knitting. But the girl kept showing up. And the woman and the girl became very close friends. Almost like a mother and daughter.

Soon, the girl was always over at the woman’s house, cooking meals for her, cleaning the home, and reading books aloud since the woman’s eyes were bad. The girl did everything but learn to knit.

Then, one day the old woman became ill. Doctors said she would not survive the illness. The girl stayed with the old woman in the hospital, and held her hand as she got worse.

One day, the girl—who was now a teenager—sat at the woman’s bedside, reading a newspaper to her aloud, as the old woman knitted with frail hands.

“Come closer, child,” said the old woman. “Put down the paper.”

The girl moved closer.

“I want to teach you a basic stitch,” said the old woman.

The girl was in shellshock. “You’re actually going to teach me to knit?” said the girl. “I gave up years ago, and I thought I’d never learn.”

The old woman smiled. “Oh, but you have learned, child. All those years helping me, cleaning my house, washing my windows, cooking my meals. You were learning.”

The girl laughed. “Certainly, I was learning to wash windows and mop your floors.”

“No, sweetheart,” the old woman said. “The first rule of knitting is understanding patience, this takes a lifetime. The rest can be learned in only a few minutes.”

Lord, teach me to be patient.