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I’ve been sitting with the news out of Minneapolis, trying to find a way to respond that felt honest, human, and grounded in who I am and how I move through the world.
Renee Nicole Good should not be reduced to a headline. She was a mother, a daughter, a spouse—and she was also an award-winning poet and creative writer. That detail matters deeply to me. She worked with words. She shaped meaning. Creativity was part of her life.
You can read more about her here:
https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c1jepdjy256o
As makers, many of us process the world through our hands. We knit, crochet, stitch, weave, and make as a way to slow down, to breathe, to hold complexity when words alone fall short. Honoring Renee through creativity feels appropriate—not as decoration, but as remembrance.
I’m inviting you to add a *pause* to whatever you’re making right now.
Not a new project. Not something performative. Just a small, intentional moment within the work already on your needles or hook.
It might be:
* one deliberate row
* a brief change in stitch
* a small flower or motif
* a quiet moment of intention while you work
There’s no right way to do this. The point isn’t visibility. The point is care.
I’m currently knitting the Flax Sweater by Tin Can Knits. I am now in the body of the sweater, so I’ve decided to add a single intentional round using **Morse code** to spell her full name: **Renee Nicole Good**.
In stockinette knitting, purl stitches create small raised bumps on the surface of the fabric. By spacing those bumps carefully, you can encode Morse code—turning the fabric into a quiet record.
One intentional row in memory of Renee Nicole Good. poet. mother. loved.
Here’s how the translation works:
* Dot (·) = 1 purl stitch
* Dash (—) = 3 purl stitches in a row
* Space between letters = 3 knit stitches
* Space between words = 7 knit stitches
Using those rules, I’m working one single “pause round” where purl bumps spell out her name, held quietly in the fabric. It won’t shout. It won’t interrupt the sweater. But it will always be there.
“RENEE NICOLE GOOD” — knit/purl pattern
R (· — ·)
p1, k1, p3, k1, p1
k3
E (·)
p1
k3
N (— ·)
p3, k1, p1
k3
E (·)
p1
k3
E (·)
p1
k7 (space between words)
________________________________________
N (— ·)
p3, k1, p1
k3
I (· ·)
p1, k1, p1
k3
C (— · — ·)
p3, k1, p1, k1, p3, k1, p1
k3
O (— — —)
p3, k1, p3, k1, p3
k3
L (· — · ·)
p1, k1, p3, k1, p1, k1, p1
k3
E (·)
p1
k7 (space between words)
________________________________________
G (— — ·)
p3, k1, p3, k1, p1
k3
O (— — —)
p3, k1, p3, k1, p3
k3
O (— — —)
p3, k1, p3, k1, p3
k3
D (— · ·)
p3, k1, p1, k1, p1
________________________________________
If you’re in the middle of a project and feel moved, you’re invited to add your own pause.
Make it simple. Make it quiet. Make it yours.
This is not about perfection, explanation, or agreement. It’s about remembering a human life—and honoring a writer—through care, attention, and creativity.
Renee Nicole Good had a name. She had a voice. She mattered.
Sometimes the most meaningful response is to stop, breathe, and let our hands remember.
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