It Began with a Mitten

A Healing Journey of an Unexpected Kind

I am a daughter of an immigrant. My mother was born in a DP camp in Germany. 

Right after the occupation and the war. 

My Vecmamina (Latvian for Grandma) took care of my as a young child. We had a special bond. 

I have memories of my grandfather's tailor shop in NE Minneapolis. It was filled with cloth and sewing machines and wonderful jars of buttons. My grandpa was a jovial man, with a loud booming laugh that people remembered. 

My sister Steph, my cousin David, "Vetsmommy" and me

My family always talked about Latvia, but as a young girl it was a far away place filled with birch trees, ladies dressed in pretty folk costumes that sang and ate Latvian bacon rolls all day. My grandma knit. She made all of us grandchildren mittens and socks. It was magical. 

Ingebretsen's shop in Minneapolis hosted a Latvian Ethnographic Mitten Exhibition and Latvian History talk this week-end. 

Some planning brought my Aunt Zinta into town so we could attend this event together. I knew there would be beautiful mittens there...what I wasn't prepared for was the soul work that would happen this week-end. 

For both of us. 

This mitten caught my eye as the "chain" motif is more beautiful IN PERSON

As we both entered the shop and settled at the table after admiring these beautiful mittens we marveled at the community turn out for this event. Ingebretsen's shop welcomed us cheerfully and provided coffee while Latvian ladies passed around a plate of cinnamon/poppy seed treats. A dear elderly knitting friend showed up as we settled in for a history lesson of the how the Latvians came to Minneapolis. About 25 of us. Maybe 30 at some point?  

Now I have to inform my readers, my grandparents didn't share a lot about their journey here to the United States. DP camps,  long journeys with a sick child (my mother as a baby) and time spent in Ohio under an immigrant family sponsorship through Lutheran Social Services, wasn't a topic they really thought was important. The family farm they lived on in Ohio housed many immigrants starting out in the USA over the years. It was stated as fact, but not in detail. As a child, it didn't matter much to me as it did later in my life. 

Vidzeme region was where my great grandparents were from

 My Aunt Zinta was able to reconnect with our Latvian family last summer with her visit to Riga. She found many questions were answered as to family origins and even found a relative we didn't know existed. An ocean cannot separate the love you feel when you find your family roots!

My grandma had a Kurzeme folk costume she made in textile school 

 I learned how to knit as an adult. I was enamored with Latvian mittens, and thought I could just pick up the craft with a mitten book and make my own pair of Latvian mittens.
:GULP:
They are NOT EASY.
Little needles, tiny but pretty string that get tangled easily. Loose stitches that fall off the needles.
I made a lot of mistakes!
Over the years, I've been able to connect with a few Latvian knitters to show me bits and pieces of techniques that I had to master FIRST in order to make these mittens look right. It was a lot of trial and error though...and teaching myself has taken a lot of perseverance.

In the knitting journey I started to question more about our family origins, about my grandparents and their journey to the United States and some startling facts began to emerge.

The holocaust was real.
And it didn't just happen to the Jews.
It happened to many, many people in the European area. So many lost their lives, their homes and their identification with their countries of origin. Many lost more than their livelihoods. It's complicated and painful.

Somehow, the Latvian people preserved their culture.

Their creative expressions were not squashed with the re-location to another foreign land. They were hard workers and they did adapt to their new homes, their new countries. But their homeland always sings to them. It's a heart song felt by those that remember.

I found this one unusual but so unique and reminiscent of my Vecmommy's knitting

As our speaker started with Latvian history and their traditions, the memories from childhood came flooding back. Many of the older women in our circle were nodding from time to time and you could see the looks of reflection flicker across their faces too. Comrade/friendship and kinship were emotions palpable in the room. A few somber moments, but not in a depressing way. More in an honoring way. Latvian history. 

The speaker was very passionate as she covered not only history but also foods, of language nuances particular to the Baltic States. The differences between Latvian, Lithuanian and Estonian languages. She had visuals and hand outs. (I LOVE HANDOUTS!)

My Aunt Zinta LOVED these mittens. Those thumbs were PERFECT.

Sitting in this circle of women, we weren't all Latvians as I discovered towards the last 1/2 of our hour together. Many came to see the mittens and were curious about the culture. Many had questions I hadn't even thought of which were answered as I had "aha!" moments alongside them. 

The friendship circle completed, we now were all chatting and sharing experiences that only ladies can do when we become fast friends through common interests. Young, and old alike! 

This pair dazzled me with color and popped brightly with tiny, tiny, stitches

The speaker, Maija, also brought a personal collection of amber jewelry that we were allowed to hold and examine. The differences in amber and their significant meaning in the culture reminded me of my own amber in my jewelry box from my grandparents. 

I will forever look at them differently now. Some amber pieces are fragile or more soft than a true stone, yet warm, soothing. Some amber felt more lightweight and were colorful beyond the orange/brown glow they emitted. Some pieces were clear and see-through. Some solid and variegated. 

There was something healing about looking at the amber pieces and remembering how they were formed so long ago. It reminded me of the Latvian people, themselves. 

Preserving yet versatile. 

Humble yet fixed. 

Simple, yet complex and full of light and life. 

The styles ranged form folk art, to more modern and sleek. 

More geometric mittens

This color way blew my socks off! 

Blues! 

So much to take in

Look at the detail on this cuff!

This symbol is so intriguing to me

A simple hand repeat but the cuff is one  that shows skill and creativity 

A showcase of tinier mittens! Pics don't do them justice! 

After our speaker finished we visited and chatted more with the participants and viewed more of the mittens. I was able to peek inside the cuffs on the to see how some of the knitters carried their yarns on the unseen side of the mittens. Everything was so neat, so perfectly woven in - I felt so inadequate in my own skills.
Ha!
These women knit their whole lives, I am but a babe at this craft.
I was able to sign up for a Latvian mitten class hosted by a REAL Latvian knitter.
Call Ingebretsen's now if you are interested!
There were only 2 spots left...it starts March 24th!

These wonderful mittens are headed to Milwaukee, Wisconsin next. You truly don't want to miss this, even if you aren't Latvian by blood or by birth.

Knitters are all woven together by our stitches, right?!

Check the traveling schedule here: Latvian Ethnographic Mitten Exhibition

Our next stop on this Latvian adventure was visit to our family's old church.

Latvian Lutheran Church

3152 17th Avenue South

Minneapolis, MN 55407

This was where my grandfather Edgar sang in the men's choir.
He also made folk costumes (as he was a tailor) and where I have memories of a child visiting and eating Latvian food there.

It's a very historic church-but so welcoming and warm. Pussy willows were on display by the front entrance, and I was instantly transported back to my grandparents house on University Avenue. There's a memory there somewhere that even I can't identify or put my finger on. The Latvians loved the harbingers of Spring. Flowers, nature and trees and just being outside. Mushroom hunting with a basket or pail.

The Latvian Evangelical Lutheran Church of Minneapolis & St. Paul

Zinta and I met the minister upon entering, a wonderful friendly man, Pastor Dag, who assured us that while the service was primarily in the Latvian language, some English would be spoken here and there too. I appreciated that.

They do have English services periodically, as many have relatives that visit the church don't speak fluent Latvian. I did not feel like an outsider. And my aunt's language came back to her easily.

I wish I had pictures of the inside of the church!

My words will have to suffice for my readers.

Tapestries, woven and colorful, peeked out here and there inside the church. Symbolic oak leaves were in woven into the architecture in front and an overheard lighted chandelier (probably not the right word) was very ornate styled with its design and amber pendants.

I was given a gentle reminder through the message, that as a Christian, as a follower of the Lord, it didn't matter if I am Latvian, American or otherwise.
I too identified with the  "shock value" of being Christian that the pastor spoke of.
The struggle is real to all of us.
Sometimes, we just have to say we are sorry for our actions, for our reputation, for our careless words in history recent, and of history past.
Being a Light is not easy, nor is it to be hidden. This world, this place we live in together in community, is a daily struggle. Stigma, pre-conceived or not, is universal. We all experience it in one way or another.

How lovingly this message was given. How kindness in the spoken words translated over through tone, voice, and face. Much was read into the foreign yet familiar words of my grandparent's language and I absorbed them as Zinta whispered bits and pieces here and there to me in English through-out. Pastor Dag re-counted the message in English for us all briefly, and I let it wash over me and settle.

Our world needs hope. And it begins with each one of us. In our own messages.
It begins with me.

How wonderful to be introduced to the congregation as we were welcomed as old family friends towards the end of the service! It was unexpected, but not uncomfortable. It also invited older members there that remembered my grandparents to come and share stories.
Memories.
Past times.

Another newer Latvian friend that I had met at a store in Forest Lake was there with her uncle. We hugged and embraced as old friends. A connection made!

"Coffee" afterward, in traditional Latvian flavor, included FOOD.
Oh, the food!
Now the memories were complete for me.
The way to the Latvian heart is through good food and coffee.
And the Latvian fare is always welcomed to this girl. YUM!!
The stories shared, the visiting with these kindred people filled holes in our souls we didn't even know were there.

Everyone wants to belong somewhere.
Everyone wants identity.
I think we choose that identity in different ways. A few of us are called to it.

Many never really find their identity in comfort or joy. That saddens me. I am grateful for this journey. Grateful for my identity with the Latvians, now made real and tangible.

As a Latvian, it is more than just a country, a place on the map, a colorful square on our globe.

A gift for my fridge from a gentle lady from church

For this Latvian, my identity is found in this people of strength, quiet, yet persevering and TRUE. 

For this Latvian, it is found in coming home to where you belong, joyfully. 

It all started with a mitten...truly just a mitten. 

A Latvian mitten. 

My grandmother's mitten. 

Olga's handiwork

To so many of the Latvian friends that I met this week-end, if you are reading this;

PALDIES! from my heart