Irene Marder, 94, crochets for a couple of hours at a time throughout the day — in the morning, the afternoon and evening.
Every day, Marder crochets prayer shawls for cancer patients at Emory Saint Joseph’s Hospital in Atlanta.
All the while, she prays for healing for the patient who will receive her hand-crocheted creation.
“It seems to be in my heart to do it,” said Marder, who lives in Lawrenceville.
She has crocheted more than 100 prayer shawls (also used as small lap blankets) during the past year. And on a recent morning, Marder, clad in a “Team USA” jacket, had an opportunity to hand-deliver the shawls to patients.
“Oh my goodness, I appreciate this very much,” said Ester Thomas, 77, of Decatur when Marder approached her with a purple-and-white blanket.
Marder unfolded the blanket and placed it on Thomas’ lap. The two women held hands and hugged.
“She is an example of giving back, and that it doesn’t matter how old you are when you have a kind spirit and when your heart tells you to give,” said Thomas, who has been getting chemotherapy every three weeks since March for a nonmalignant tumor.
For several decades, Marder has crocheted blankets to give away, mostly to strangers.
She used to tote dozens in her car and pull over whenever she saw someone who could benefit from a hand-crocheted, one-of-a-kind blanket. It included people who seemed lonely or impoverished or simply down on their luck. The blankets were accompanied by handwritten cards: I made this lap robe especially for you and prayed for you with every stitch. Love, Irene.
After one of Marder’s granddaughters was diagnosed with breast cancer a few years ago, Marder turned her focus to crocheting prayer shawls for patients undergoing chemotherapy. It was a gift from the heart, but it was practical, too, since infusion centers tend to be cold.
Michele Rutherford, a radiation therapist at St. Joseph’s, heard about Marder’s crochet project at her church and then helped connect Marder to the hospital’s oncology unit.
"I think this is amazing and I think it really helps," Rutherford said about Marder's blankets. "I think it really, really touches people."
On the recent morning, while Marder was giving blankets in shades of purple to patients, she wondered aloud if she should start crocheting in other colors that would perhaps be more appealing to male patients. But then she had an idea as she stepped toward a young man receiving chemotherapy.
“Do you have a honeybun?” she asked.
He smiled and said: “Will you be my honeybun?” They both laughed. And the man was happy to receive one of the blankets in a shade of purple.
It meant a lot to Marder to give her shawls and blankets, each accompanied with a card and sticker photo of her.
“It was exciting to know these sweet patients enjoy them,” she said.
After giving virtually every patient in the infusion room a blanket and leaving a stack for new patients, Marder headed home to her apartment she shares with her husband, Jack. (They are about to celebrate their 75th anniversary.) Marder would return to crocheting that afternoon and then again that evening. Marder has six children, 21 grandchildren and 30-plus great-grandchildren — all of whom help keep her supplied with yarn. And that will help Marder keep doing what she does so well.
“I make these, every stitch with love,” she said.
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