For many years, I had been sewing. I remember that when I was about 12 years old, I would sit with the neighborhood girls while they played with Barbie dolls. I didn't so much take part in the play, as to sit and create outfits for the dolls, sewing them by hand.
The year that I married, someone gave me an antique treadle machine. I was excited to have a sewing machine, and I attempted a few times to get the hang of using it. Each time I tried, I would find that I was failing at making it do what it was supposed to do. In frustration, I finally closed it up and there it sat, in our apartment, until the day we moved out. At that time, I am ashamed to admit, I had it taken to the dump. What a foolish child I was, but I had no idea as a young bride, that the machine could be worked, or even used as a piece of furniture. I also had no idea that it had value as an antique or that I would one day like old things in my home far better than the new-fangled stuff.
Oh, how I've regretted the decision to discard that lovely piece of history! In the years since that first machine and I parted company, I have acquired two other treadles. One is just the bottom, pedal stand. The other is the entire machine, which I have learned to thread, place the bobbin in, and sew on. I do not use it for projects, though. I use the first electric one that I got for Christmas in 1969. It is a used Montgomery Ward model which will go like the wind and will sew heavy layers, even denims. I have a more modern, zig zag machine which sews nicely, but is slow, and will take only light layers.
So many things have been turned out from that first Mongomery Ward model. My children and grandchildren wore clothing sewn on it, and played with dolls and doll clothing from it, too. Halloween costumes and dress up box outfits, western shirts and quilts too, were stitched on my first and favorite machine.
Though my thoughts often return to my bad choice to getting rid of the first treadle, I think if I had actually learned to sew on it, I might not have gotten my well-used, well loved, long-lived machine which I still use today.
There are reasons for all things, I guess.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
I Want to Fix It....
When there are hurts in the lives of those I love, I just want to fix things. When the kids were small, and they got a splinter, I'd remove it and kiss it, put a bandaid on it, and it was over. Skinned knees got some silly picture painted with mercurchrome, maybe added a bandaid and a kiss to the forehead, and life went on, uninterrupted.
Adult hurts aren't as easy to fix. Sometimes I see people who are so far in debt that they couldn't dig their way out with a bulldozer. That is, perhaps or perhaps not, their own doing, but still they are suffering, and I want to find a way to help. A hug won't do it. A whole lot of mind changing and work might, but it will take time. If I handed them every cent that would erase their money problems, would it help? No, I don't think so. It would be a temporary fix, but wouldn't have taught them to make better choices.
When I hear of a friend who is plagued with one medical situation after another. When it keeps them from socializing, or keeps them house bound, it makes me want to take it all away from them, so that they can live a normal life without those restrictions. But, what can I do? There is no way I can heal them of their ailments. I feel helpless....and other than to pray, I know of nothing I can do to lift that load from them.
Burdens are in every life, I guess. Divorces, relationship issues, things of that nature surely cause hurt. Heartbreak is the worst, I think. Watching one you love suffer through a broken heart tends to break my own. Changes are to come, and unknown futures cause worries and wonders. I want to offer support and help and a comfy 'place to fall'. It never feels to me as if it is enough. I am once again rendered helpless to help. I want to scoop that loved one up in my arms and let them know how worthy they are of all love and acceptance, just the way they are. But it's hard to do that with an adult friend or relative. Words, though heartfelt when offered, may not penetrate the hearer's ear when they need it most.
If I've learned anything as I've aged, it is that I cannot always fix everything. There are things in this world that happen that bring me to tears. There are tragedies, fires, agonies brought by hate...or by love... that are huge. My empathy, my compassion, my wishes to fix people's hurts is beyond my ability to heal these aches. And so, I offer what I can....my ear, my understanding, my hugs, my thoughts and prayers. What more can I do?
Adult hurts aren't as easy to fix. Sometimes I see people who are so far in debt that they couldn't dig their way out with a bulldozer. That is, perhaps or perhaps not, their own doing, but still they are suffering, and I want to find a way to help. A hug won't do it. A whole lot of mind changing and work might, but it will take time. If I handed them every cent that would erase their money problems, would it help? No, I don't think so. It would be a temporary fix, but wouldn't have taught them to make better choices.
When I hear of a friend who is plagued with one medical situation after another. When it keeps them from socializing, or keeps them house bound, it makes me want to take it all away from them, so that they can live a normal life without those restrictions. But, what can I do? There is no way I can heal them of their ailments. I feel helpless....and other than to pray, I know of nothing I can do to lift that load from them.
Burdens are in every life, I guess. Divorces, relationship issues, things of that nature surely cause hurt. Heartbreak is the worst, I think. Watching one you love suffer through a broken heart tends to break my own. Changes are to come, and unknown futures cause worries and wonders. I want to offer support and help and a comfy 'place to fall'. It never feels to me as if it is enough. I am once again rendered helpless to help. I want to scoop that loved one up in my arms and let them know how worthy they are of all love and acceptance, just the way they are. But it's hard to do that with an adult friend or relative. Words, though heartfelt when offered, may not penetrate the hearer's ear when they need it most.
If I've learned anything as I've aged, it is that I cannot always fix everything. There are things in this world that happen that bring me to tears. There are tragedies, fires, agonies brought by hate...or by love... that are huge. My empathy, my compassion, my wishes to fix people's hurts is beyond my ability to heal these aches. And so, I offer what I can....my ear, my understanding, my hugs, my thoughts and prayers. What more can I do?
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Remembering Terry
She was a little bit of a woman, but she was a powerhouse. She had strength and determination that belied her tiny frame. I think she took many people by surprise.
Terry was as full of fun and friendliness as she was work and business. She loved her kayak, and she loved the beach at Maidstone Park. She would walk every day, keeping her spirit at peace, and would paddle her vessel in local waters whenever she had the opportunity. She loved her plants and gardens, and spent much time puttering in her yard after permanently closing the flower shop/small nursery she owned. Like myself, she liked to place many flowers in the soil together for that 'natural' cottage garden look.
She'd lived for many years in an expanded ranch house where she reared her children alone, after being widowed at a young age. Some time later, she remarried a widower, and after some years together, they parted ways. Terry came into possession of her grandmother's little house, one block from the her beloved Maidstone beach. It needed a lot of work, and she hired my brother in law, George, to do the work. Using her wonderful ideas and his skills, together they transformed the place into a new home for Terry. It was perfect for her, with enough room for guests and family, but not too big to be a bother. Terry faithfully collected grey stones of a certain size and shape at the beach, to be used as cabinet door and drawer pulls. She carefully chose the countertops for her rustic wood cabinets, and chose one that looked to her like the edge of the water at the bay. She chose soft, serene colors for the furniture and walls, giving the home a cozy feel. When taking down old wallboard near the fireplace, she discovered a huge old beehive, long since abandoned by its residents. She decided to keep it, exposed, so that others might enjoy it as well. She had an end table built, with a window of panes for it's top, so that if she wanted to, she could use it as a display box. There are beams exposed and an open ceiling in the living room, adding to the charm.
It was Terry's idea that the home should look like a little Nantucket Cottage. To further that concept, she planted climbing pink roses that would one day reach the roof and creep to the peak. Her small 'islands' of gardens showed a lovely burst of color during the seasons, and like Terry, were celebrants of life in the sun. She created a dry stream bed, with river rock in it, in the side yard, which served as a drainage ditch when there was a lot of rain. Because she loved the birds, Terry placed stakes which held small glass containers full of water for them to drink.
This little woman, who involved herself in community and environmental organizations, was full of life for as long as she had it. She loved people, she loved nature. It was always a pleasant visit with much talk, much laughter, much unspoken love when we spent time with her. Too soon she was taken from us all. She was a perfect example of how to live life, expecting good things of the day and making them happen for others. The world needs more people like Terry. We miss her.
We remember her often, and think of her whenever we see the Black-Eyed Susans and soft peach Daylilies she gave us.
I hope that God has given her a beach home in Heaven, with gardens to tend and birds to look after. Whatever God has given her, I can almost guarantee that she is actively involved in it and is doing it with the utmost joy!
Terry was as full of fun and friendliness as she was work and business. She loved her kayak, and she loved the beach at Maidstone Park. She would walk every day, keeping her spirit at peace, and would paddle her vessel in local waters whenever she had the opportunity. She loved her plants and gardens, and spent much time puttering in her yard after permanently closing the flower shop/small nursery she owned. Like myself, she liked to place many flowers in the soil together for that 'natural' cottage garden look.
She'd lived for many years in an expanded ranch house where she reared her children alone, after being widowed at a young age. Some time later, she remarried a widower, and after some years together, they parted ways. Terry came into possession of her grandmother's little house, one block from the her beloved Maidstone beach. It needed a lot of work, and she hired my brother in law, George, to do the work. Using her wonderful ideas and his skills, together they transformed the place into a new home for Terry. It was perfect for her, with enough room for guests and family, but not too big to be a bother. Terry faithfully collected grey stones of a certain size and shape at the beach, to be used as cabinet door and drawer pulls. She carefully chose the countertops for her rustic wood cabinets, and chose one that looked to her like the edge of the water at the bay. She chose soft, serene colors for the furniture and walls, giving the home a cozy feel. When taking down old wallboard near the fireplace, she discovered a huge old beehive, long since abandoned by its residents. She decided to keep it, exposed, so that others might enjoy it as well. She had an end table built, with a window of panes for it's top, so that if she wanted to, she could use it as a display box. There are beams exposed and an open ceiling in the living room, adding to the charm.
It was Terry's idea that the home should look like a little Nantucket Cottage. To further that concept, she planted climbing pink roses that would one day reach the roof and creep to the peak. Her small 'islands' of gardens showed a lovely burst of color during the seasons, and like Terry, were celebrants of life in the sun. She created a dry stream bed, with river rock in it, in the side yard, which served as a drainage ditch when there was a lot of rain. Because she loved the birds, Terry placed stakes which held small glass containers full of water for them to drink.
This little woman, who involved herself in community and environmental organizations, was full of life for as long as she had it. She loved people, she loved nature. It was always a pleasant visit with much talk, much laughter, much unspoken love when we spent time with her. Too soon she was taken from us all. She was a perfect example of how to live life, expecting good things of the day and making them happen for others. The world needs more people like Terry. We miss her.
We remember her often, and think of her whenever we see the Black-Eyed Susans and soft peach Daylilies she gave us.
I hope that God has given her a beach home in Heaven, with gardens to tend and birds to look after. Whatever God has given her, I can almost guarantee that she is actively involved in it and is doing it with the utmost joy!
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Sunday Afternoons....
Around here, we have very quiet Sunday afternoons. We arrive home from church, have a bite of lunch, and slowly drift and serenely drift into some interest or another. Sometimes we have a visit with neighbors on our front porch. Sometimes it's computing or books. Lately, though, it's been football games.
It all started when my husband's home state team, the Seattle Seahawks, were playing in the play offs for the Superbowl, against the New Orleans Saints. Hmmm...what chance did the team with the poorest record in history have against the Superbowl winners? Since Mike is unethusiastic about watching a game by himself, I told him I'd watch with him, though with pure honesty I'll tell you, I've not one iota of interest in football. However...that day I watched, and as the game went on, I became more interested until I found myself whooping it up with every great play of the Seahawks, and every fumble by the Saints. Secretly I thought, "this isn't so bad, after all."
After the Seahawks won the game, miraculously, I slid, effortlessly, into the next game, which happened to be the NY Jets. It wasn't as exciting a game, and I wasn't much interested in it. I realized today that what I thought would be just the watching of the Seahawks until they were beat, was not going to happen until after the Superbowl, which I always watch with Mike. So...
today was spent watching the Chicago Bears fall to the Green Bay Packers. Now begins the second game of the day, the Pittsburg Steelers against the NY Jets. I'll have to be loyal to NY since I am a born and bred New Yorker, though I'm not particularly interested in who wins or loses.
I will poke my head up every now and then, from whatever computer game I'm in the middle of, to find out what all the hooplah is about on the tv....but in the recesses of my mind, I'm reliving the wonderful time we had earlier this afternoon, sharing lunch at the bbq restaurant nearby with the company of our beloved Pastor and his wife, Diane. Shhhh....don't tell Mike.
It all started when my husband's home state team, the Seattle Seahawks, were playing in the play offs for the Superbowl, against the New Orleans Saints. Hmmm...what chance did the team with the poorest record in history have against the Superbowl winners? Since Mike is unethusiastic about watching a game by himself, I told him I'd watch with him, though with pure honesty I'll tell you, I've not one iota of interest in football. However...that day I watched, and as the game went on, I became more interested until I found myself whooping it up with every great play of the Seahawks, and every fumble by the Saints. Secretly I thought, "this isn't so bad, after all."
After the Seahawks won the game, miraculously, I slid, effortlessly, into the next game, which happened to be the NY Jets. It wasn't as exciting a game, and I wasn't much interested in it. I realized today that what I thought would be just the watching of the Seahawks until they were beat, was not going to happen until after the Superbowl, which I always watch with Mike. So...
today was spent watching the Chicago Bears fall to the Green Bay Packers. Now begins the second game of the day, the Pittsburg Steelers against the NY Jets. I'll have to be loyal to NY since I am a born and bred New Yorker, though I'm not particularly interested in who wins or loses.
I will poke my head up every now and then, from whatever computer game I'm in the middle of, to find out what all the hooplah is about on the tv....but in the recesses of my mind, I'm reliving the wonderful time we had earlier this afternoon, sharing lunch at the bbq restaurant nearby with the company of our beloved Pastor and his wife, Diane. Shhhh....don't tell Mike.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
One of Those Nights...
It was one of those nights that happen far too often lately. Last night we watched Meryl Streep in "Mama Mia" and loved it. I may have been a bit more appreciative than Mike, because I actually saw the end of the movie, which I rarely do, no matter how excited I am to be watching it.
I woke up in the dark just minutes before I heard the two gongs signifying the two o'clock hour. I struggled to rise from my cozy nest on the couch, wandered to the bathroom, and got ready for bed. Climbing between the covers, I remained in a dazed state of half-sleep while I put my head on the pillow. I waited. I heard the single gong of the clock....2:30 AM. I prayed for everyone I knew that I'd promised prayer for. Gong,Gong, Gong! 3 AM . I mentally shopped for material for the kitchen backsplash. I pictured the plastic-type of ceiling tin made for the project, and wondered about it and it's durability. I pictured the small, glass tiles...greys,white, black....too modern I decided. Do I want to explore the myriad of ceramic tiles? I tried to imagine some of it, and wasn't very enthused, as I don't really want tiles at all. What else could I work with for an easy -to-clean surface that will hold up well? Gong...3:30 AM. Husband gets up for his stop in the necessary room, and then he continues to the kitchen for that middle of the night snack. He came back to bed and I heard the four gongs.
Moving on, I wondered about the prayer shawls knitted by a friend, and her knitting group. I tried to imagine what they look like, and wondered if she would sell/make one for me. A mental note was made to contact her with the query. At that point, I also realized that I needed to send a check for a handcrafted item I'd ordered. One gong...4:30 AM.
I rolled from one side to the other, and then to my stomach, then returned to my back. I heard my stomach growl as it continued to process the cabbage and ham dinner we'd eaten hours earlier. I thought it was taking a long time to digest, and then realized that I might be hungry instead. I'd wait until breakfast. The heating unit seemed unusually loud, and then I heard the five gongs. It was useless. Sleep was definitely illusive and wasn't apt to show up as daylight moved closer. I got up.
All the plans I had made to run out and do errands today diminished as I took my morning vitamins and waited for the coffee to brew. I made some eggs and bacon and rye toast, and turned on the early news. After my habit of Facebook with coffee, I tried to gather my thoughts from the fog in my head, and determine whether I'm up to doing any errands at all. Feeling dizzy with the lack of sleep, I reckoned that it might be safer to stay at home and do whatever demanded my attention. Certainly it had better not be anything requiring much attention because I don't have any to spare after a 4 hour sleep.
I think my crystal ball is indicating a nap will be had this afternoon....and a welcome one, at that.
I woke up in the dark just minutes before I heard the two gongs signifying the two o'clock hour. I struggled to rise from my cozy nest on the couch, wandered to the bathroom, and got ready for bed. Climbing between the covers, I remained in a dazed state of half-sleep while I put my head on the pillow. I waited. I heard the single gong of the clock....2:30 AM. I prayed for everyone I knew that I'd promised prayer for. Gong,Gong, Gong! 3 AM . I mentally shopped for material for the kitchen backsplash. I pictured the plastic-type of ceiling tin made for the project, and wondered about it and it's durability. I pictured the small, glass tiles...greys,white, black....too modern I decided. Do I want to explore the myriad of ceramic tiles? I tried to imagine some of it, and wasn't very enthused, as I don't really want tiles at all. What else could I work with for an easy -to-clean surface that will hold up well? Gong...3:30 AM. Husband gets up for his stop in the necessary room, and then he continues to the kitchen for that middle of the night snack. He came back to bed and I heard the four gongs.
Moving on, I wondered about the prayer shawls knitted by a friend, and her knitting group. I tried to imagine what they look like, and wondered if she would sell/make one for me. A mental note was made to contact her with the query. At that point, I also realized that I needed to send a check for a handcrafted item I'd ordered. One gong...4:30 AM.
I rolled from one side to the other, and then to my stomach, then returned to my back. I heard my stomach growl as it continued to process the cabbage and ham dinner we'd eaten hours earlier. I thought it was taking a long time to digest, and then realized that I might be hungry instead. I'd wait until breakfast. The heating unit seemed unusually loud, and then I heard the five gongs. It was useless. Sleep was definitely illusive and wasn't apt to show up as daylight moved closer. I got up.
All the plans I had made to run out and do errands today diminished as I took my morning vitamins and waited for the coffee to brew. I made some eggs and bacon and rye toast, and turned on the early news. After my habit of Facebook with coffee, I tried to gather my thoughts from the fog in my head, and determine whether I'm up to doing any errands at all. Feeling dizzy with the lack of sleep, I reckoned that it might be safer to stay at home and do whatever demanded my attention. Certainly it had better not be anything requiring much attention because I don't have any to spare after a 4 hour sleep.
I think my crystal ball is indicating a nap will be had this afternoon....and a welcome one, at that.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
To My Mother in Law
Dear Margie...
Your son has been my husband for fifteen years. Every year with him gets better. He is such a special, unselfish, giving man. I couldn't have designed him better if I had had the opportunity to do so.
I've heard the stories of his growing up years without his birth father. I know how he fought the idea of having a stepdad, but eventually accepted Jake,loving and respecting him as family and friend. I've heard his fears of feeling as if he's not doing a good enough job of being a father. He's an amazing and accepting step-father, offering advice, but never preaching. I've dried his tears as he remembers his grandparents with such immense love that it spills out through his eyes. I've watched him take on the role of grandfather with the birth of each of my grandchildren. He couldn't be more loving with any of them, even if they were his own blood.
Yes, yes, I know that he isn't perfect. You told me in one of our earlies conversations that he had a huge temper. Yes, he does, but fortunately, he has a long fuse. His patience level is high, and it takes a lot to bring him to his loss of it. I've seen it only three times that I can think of....not a bad percentage for as many years as I've known him.
Thank you for giving birth to this guy on this day, so many years ago. Thank you for all that he learned from you, and for exposing him to the examples your brother gave him, for those of your father, and for Jake's, as he grew up. All of those examples and experiences have caused him to be who he is. It isn't easy to rear children who will grow into great adults, but you did it, and you deserve to be recognized.
I'm forever grateful.
With love, Kathleen
Your son has been my husband for fifteen years. Every year with him gets better. He is such a special, unselfish, giving man. I couldn't have designed him better if I had had the opportunity to do so.
I've heard the stories of his growing up years without his birth father. I know how he fought the idea of having a stepdad, but eventually accepted Jake,loving and respecting him as family and friend. I've heard his fears of feeling as if he's not doing a good enough job of being a father. He's an amazing and accepting step-father, offering advice, but never preaching. I've dried his tears as he remembers his grandparents with such immense love that it spills out through his eyes. I've watched him take on the role of grandfather with the birth of each of my grandchildren. He couldn't be more loving with any of them, even if they were his own blood.
Yes, yes, I know that he isn't perfect. You told me in one of our earlies conversations that he had a huge temper. Yes, he does, but fortunately, he has a long fuse. His patience level is high, and it takes a lot to bring him to his loss of it. I've seen it only three times that I can think of....not a bad percentage for as many years as I've known him.
Thank you for giving birth to this guy on this day, so many years ago. Thank you for all that he learned from you, and for exposing him to the examples your brother gave him, for those of your father, and for Jake's, as he grew up. All of those examples and experiences have caused him to be who he is. It isn't easy to rear children who will grow into great adults, but you did it, and you deserve to be recognized.
I'm forever grateful.
With love, Kathleen
Last Night...
We had a Christmas party to attend last night, the third one so far this year. I really enjoy that one, but, unfortunately I needed to stay at home. I've had a few days of nausea which came and went throughout the week. My husband had the same ailment last weekend. Nothing much came of it, other than discomfort, but I wasn't feeling up to going into a crowd for dinner, both for their sakes and my own.
I truly enjoy these 'at home' gatherings. They are intimate and quiter than going to a restaurant, and so much more personal. It's fun to see the decorating in the homes of our hosts, and I pay special attention in order to get new ideas for our own celebrations in another year.
While my husband attended the party last night, with my Mom as his date, I laid on the couch at home. I thought about how lucky I am to have such a man as my husband. He might rather have stayed at home,too, but he knows how Mom enjoys going to the special events. He put his desires on the shelf, and took his place as her escort. He is so attentive to my mother, who has trouble seeing things and is a bit unsteady on her feet at times. I envisioned them at the dinnerline, as he told her what each dish was, and portioned it out on her plate for her. Then he guided her to the table, sitting at her left so she could hear him with her 'good' ear.
I know he did those things, because I've seen him do it in other situations. He's such a special son in law that people in church, when they first met us, asked if Mom was my mother or his. They make statements, still, such as 'he's so GOOD with her."
They made it an early night, and after seeing that Mom was safely inside her little house across the street, he brought a little of the party home to me....a number of messages to 'feel better' and a plate, heavy-laden with food.
I may have missed a great holiday celebration, but I celebrate the gift of this man as my husband. I am truly blessed to have him!
I truly enjoy these 'at home' gatherings. They are intimate and quiter than going to a restaurant, and so much more personal. It's fun to see the decorating in the homes of our hosts, and I pay special attention in order to get new ideas for our own celebrations in another year.
While my husband attended the party last night, with my Mom as his date, I laid on the couch at home. I thought about how lucky I am to have such a man as my husband. He might rather have stayed at home,too, but he knows how Mom enjoys going to the special events. He put his desires on the shelf, and took his place as her escort. He is so attentive to my mother, who has trouble seeing things and is a bit unsteady on her feet at times. I envisioned them at the dinnerline, as he told her what each dish was, and portioned it out on her plate for her. Then he guided her to the table, sitting at her left so she could hear him with her 'good' ear.
I know he did those things, because I've seen him do it in other situations. He's such a special son in law that people in church, when they first met us, asked if Mom was my mother or his. They make statements, still, such as 'he's so GOOD with her."
They made it an early night, and after seeing that Mom was safely inside her little house across the street, he brought a little of the party home to me....a number of messages to 'feel better' and a plate, heavy-laden with food.
I may have missed a great holiday celebration, but I celebrate the gift of this man as my husband. I am truly blessed to have him!
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