Baby Steps

I finally finished my apron. I've seen these pretty frilly things for sale and figured I could make one if I just had a pattern. I found this cute pattern at www.mariemadelinestudio.com/chicsisters and it was pretty simple. There were a few tricky parts but I finally got through them and am very pleased with it. I'm thinking I'll have to make myself a few more before I'm done.

I've been reading some books set maybe 50 years ago on various farms. One of the characters mentions putting on her apron to do some work at about the same time I had finished my apron. I'm quite sure her apron was not a frilly thing. It called to mind again how blessed I feel to have not only the necessities of life, but some luxuries as well. I felt like making a pretty apron, so I bought the pattern, found some fun fabric and I made it. I wasn't struggling to make a living, I didn't have to save up for months to buy the fabric, and I didn't have to work from sunrise to sundown harvesting anything. By all accounts, I live a very easy life. If anything, I spend too much time dealing with excesses--I make trips to DI to empty our house of clutter, I exercise because I've eaten too much . . .

I hope that the next time I feel that I need something new or I that I need a little break from my spoiled life, that I will take a minute to think about those who have less. That I will appreciate the bounty of my rich life and express gratitude. That I will look beyond myself and my selfish desires. I often hesitate to help because I don't feel capable of solving world hunger, or of righting a great wrong. And while I may not be able to help someone on the other side of the world, I do know of a friend who is ill. Surely I can offer something small--something that will show that I am thinking of someone other than myself. Something that maybe only I can give--or maybe it's something that anyone can give and I will be the one lucky enough to actually do it.

And maybe I will wear my apron while I do it. I can't become too selfless all at once or no one will recognize me.

Legacies

Fall is a bittersweet time for me. Bitter because the leaves are all falling--the glorious colors are at an end and the endless winter is just around the corner. But it's also a sweet time for me because of the almost overwhelming memories that come of my grandma.

Fall was her favorite season. Fall colors were her favorite colors. Thanksgiving was a wonderful time at her house--the smells, the feelings, the sounds. Sounds of my cousins joining with us to play annie-annie over and then there was that special game of rolling pool table balls under the bed where people were hiding and the sounds of chipping teeth. She spent hours in the kitchen for us--just one more day in her life of service of others.

I often have the sense that she is with me--usually on my morning walks. I think of her in her garden, I think of her sewing for me, I think of her caring for her mother in her later years, I think of her feeding all my high school friends lunch, I think of shopping with her, I think of sleeping over on Friday nights and I remember that when I wanted to run away I was going to go to her house. She was my champion, my haven, my friend.

I often wonder if she is pleased with me and my life today. Would she approve of my service to others? Would she think I was full of good works as she was? Would she be tickled with my children and happy with the way we are raising them? Would she be proud of me?

And then I wonder if I have taught my children well enough about her life and the kind of person she was. Have I shared my favorite memories of her with them? Have I told them that who I am today is in large measure a result of her love? I'm afraid that as often as I think of her, I haven't shared those thoughts enough with my children.

So today I will sit down at my little table and I will craft something for their books about their Greatma, my grandma. If not today, then when? It not today, I know it will get pushed down the list of my good intentions and remain there until I am less busy or more inspired or more or less something. I want her to be a part of their lives now, while they're growing. I want them to know her and love her and to have their hearts filled with love for her even as the autumn leaves fill the air.