As I write and record the memoirs of my childhood, my parents and my life, I have come to realize the invaluable lessons I learned from them. Some things I have mimicked and others I have tweaked or tried to leave behind completely.
As a child, I don't recall hearing the words "I love you" from many (if any) family members. I always knew that I was loved... I was treated very well and never experienced abuse of any sort (though I did receive a few disciplinary spankings, they were never abusive). We simply were not a big touchy-feely family.
Words of affirmation or quality time were more the love language of our family. My parents made every effort to attend school programs, performances or gymnastic meets.
When I became a Mom I (unknowingly) wanted to make sure that our girls heard the words daily, multiple times a day even. Our bedtime routine involved a story, a hug, a kiss and an "I love you". (A routine we continue with our grandchildren when they spend the night.)
I remember one particular friend from a few years ago as we said our good-byes on the phone, she told me that she loved me... I didn't know how to respond. I mean the obvious would have been to repeat it back. I did in fact love her in a special way... but it was awkward for me.
Love was something spoken to my husband and children, maybe even about how I love to quilt, or go camping, but never had I expressed it to a friend. Love was something that showed and showered upon me. I love God... unswervingly and faithfully. But could I really say "I love you" to a friend?
As I gathered with my Christian Sisters over the weekend, I found myself saying those exact words to all of them... as we hugged and greeted each other, or departed the retreat, they were words of sincerity.
Through the years I think of the many ways that Mom showed me how she loved me. She patiently made Barbie clothes, doll clothes and most of my own clothing. She taught me how to sew, bake and craft and unknowingly nurtured and passed on a desire for creativity and I passed on many of those same things to my children.
So last week when she told me that she had purchased some fabric to make herself some pillowcases, but realized she didn't get enough, she just gave it to me.
In her recent downsizing activity, she had already cleared out all of the fabric she had. At that same time, she had given me her first attempt at making a set of pillowcases from a dress that she had made. She cut the bodice off of the skirt and needed to rip out the side seams. She tried for a short distance but with her declining vision, decided it was too much work.
After learning that she had attempted twice to make pillowcases, I decided that if she wanted them, she deserved to have them. I took some coordinating fabric from the quilt I made for her last year and fixed up the brown ones. I then did a quick measurement of the dress skirt and made a few cuts using the rotary cutter (bypassing any need for seam ripping). I quickly had her pillowcases ready for her use... and it fits right into my love language. ;)
It saddens me to think that she was unable to accomplish her goal. But it also warmed my heart to think that something so simple as those pillowcases made her so happy when I gave them to her.
I think she will be passing on her sewing machine to our youngest daughter. Perhaps that is why she wanted to make them... while she still had the machine.
The move-in date draws near, but fortunately we don't have to list and sell the house before her move. We can get her moved first and then figure out what all fits and what is left to move on. Unfortunately, spring seems to be here, and the grass is growing which means we have to find someone to cut her yard. It has become difficult to find someone to do this. With my fingers crossed, I hope that it is just one time before the move.
Speaking of downsizing and selling items... Is there anyone interested in paying postage only for a vintage thread/bobbin box with nearly 100 spools of thread? How about a Bonnie Hunter Puzzle?
Leave a comment or send me an email.
Keep Piecing,
Melva
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