Handkerchief shower

We have several weddings occurring this summer and fall.
Four, to be exact, from May to October.

All are exciting and joyous occasions for families and friends to be together to celebrate the beginning of a couple's life together. We are honored to be included.

Since many of the couples have been on their own for several years and have even already purchased their own homes, it is a puzzle sometimes to think of gift ideas.

But, of course, they have solved that problem for you by registering at various department stores. All you have to do is check a store computer, print out their list, and get one of the items they have already selected, which includes everything from dishes and towels to hammers and grill tools. I can't help but think it takes some of the surprise element away, even it it is practical.

I tend to ignore these lists and get the couple something I would want for myself, or wish for as a gift for my home. Something they may not even have thought of, or something special that they wouldn't buy themselves. A lovely piece of porcelain, perhaps, or a set of cordial glasses. Maybe a relish dish and fork, something along that order.

Along with weddings come the bridal showers that precede the big event. Again, you refer to the department store computer registers. Which, as I said, I tend to ignore.

I learned something about showers held in my grandmother's day. While going through her bundles of cards and letters, tied together neatly with string, or kept in organized fashion in variety store paper bags, I came across the following invitation:

A handkerchief shower?  Really?

But, of course, in Grandma's day, women were never without handkerchiefs. From formal, hand-embroidered designs to crocheted edges to everyday stamped patterns, they wore them in their apron and dress pockets, carried them in their purses, or clutched them in their hand.

Always, always, a handkerchief. Precisely pressed, creased corners, perhaps even starched. Lace borders for special occasions, dime-store variety for everyday.

And so I can see where a handkerchief shower would be most valuable. After all, a woman would go through many of them from one washday to the next.

To me, the special part about it would be using the handkerchiefs knowing who they came from, that it was selected with care just for me, and wondering just which handkerchief I would carry today.

I, for one, would love to see this custom come back. How quaint and how special.

Think about it. Haven't we really lost something going through a department store with a computer list to see what isn't checked off? I think so.


Or perhaps I was just born in the wrong time.

Then you let go

A few weeks ago, while visiting my mother who lives in a lovely room at a heath care center nearby, I was asked to help her mail a package to the White House.

The White House. On Pennsylvania Avenue. In Washington, D.C. Where the President lives. That White House.

Knowing my mother as I do, I wasn't at all surprised. She has long been an Obama supporter; indeed, an ardent admirer.

But although she agrees with President Obama's politics, it is not he who has won her admiration as much as our country's First Lady, Michelle Obama. And it was to Mrs. Obama that she wanted a package sent.

Upon the election of President Obama, my mother sent a hand-written note to Mrs. Obama, congratulating her family, wishing them well, and assuring her of her continued prayers for their family.

My mother knew hers would be among hundreds of other well wishes. So when she received a letter of appreciation from the White House, personally addressed and signed by Mrs. Obama, she was thrilled. It was unexpected.

The treasured letter has been framed, and now adorns her room at the care center.

The package she wanted me to mail for her contained a lovely piece of her exquisite Hardanger embroidery, stitched in white. She explained that one day, as she was stitching, it was "laid on her heart" to send this piece to Mrs. Obama, as a token of esteem.

Hardanger embroidery is my mother's passion. She does exquisite stitching, involving hours and hours of delicate work.  If you have a piece of Hardanger she has made, you have the highest gift she can give. It is a part of her, and her Scandinavian heritage.

Although I did not take a photo of the elegant piece sent to Mrs. Obama, it is similar to this one, stitched with white thread on white fabric, as is characteristic of Hardanger.

We enclosed a note to accompany the piece, explaining what it was, and that it was stitched and sent with my mother's very high regard for the First Lady.

Now we are wondering about the process the gift will undergo before ever arriving before Mrs. Obama's eyes. Scrutinized through layers of security: radar, perhaps sniffing dogs, chemical analysis of the fabric, verification of its authenticity as Hardanger, verification that Hardanger is Scandinavian needle art, as we have claimed, and on and on.

We get ridiculous as we wonder what stage it is at today, and if Mrs. Obama has yet actually received it.

But we both agree:  It was a gift sent with love, freely given, and my mother enjoyed the creating and the giving.

Then you let go.

 And isn't that what true giving really is?



An unusual gift

This was a recent gift from my sister, Joan:

She knows I love, love, love pottery. But isn't this the most unusual thing you've ever seen?  I mean, it looks like a bowl, but I can't imagine what one uses it for. 

So what in the world is it?  ....I'll tell you later.

But first, let me tell you about my sister.  She loves to shop. I mean, LOVES to shop.

This most often works to my advantage as I consider shopping a big waste of time. I let her know what I am in need of, and sure as can be, she produces it...at a bargain price. She once went to a sale at Herberger's and bought me a complete winter work wardrobe. Pants, blazers, sweaters, the works,

Joan and her friend, Janet, who lives five hours away, consider shopping a favorite pastime. They often drive approximately halfway between them to meet in a different town each time, their sole purpose being to discover all the little shops the town has to offer. I must say, they find some unique treasures.

I took a notion to join them once.  Janet came to our area for the weekend, and the three of us went off for a day of exploring in Stillwater, Minnesota.  Stillwater, a charming river town, boasts gift shops, antique malls, coffee shops and book stores galore. 

We started at one end of the town, intending to work our way up and down the streets on either side.  Such fun to browse among the goodies: hand-dipped candles, unique notecards, wall art, homemade fudge, and more, more, more.

By early afternoon, I figured we'd have covered the town and would stop for lunch.

But not at their rate,  After I had finished my browsing, I went outside to wait for them.  And discovered I was in for at least an hour's wait. At each shop. They went at a snail's pace, picking up each item to closely examine.

By 4:00 (we did at least stop for lunch), I had had enough. They couldn't understand how I could possibly be ready to go home, but they gave in and we left Stillwater behind.

However, they then wondered how late in the evening Target and Wal-Mart were open in nearby Forest Lake.  Until midnight, a telephone inquiry revealed.

And off they went.  Needless to say, I didn't join them, and haven't since.

Back to the bowl.

On this occasion, they met in LaCrosse, Wisconsin, for the weekend.  They saw this bowl and Joan just knew that, being a knitter, I would love it!

Yes, it is a yarn bowl. 

Perfect for the large skeins of yarn I use to make prayer shawls for our church to give someone in need of comfort. I use it all the time and you can see how handy it is keeping the yarn together with the end coming out in a single, neat strand.

So I am really glad my sister loves shopping. Most of all, I love her for her thoughtfulness and generosity.

Thank you, Joan.  You and Janet just keep on a'shoppin....but without me.

Christmas tears

It is a joyous time of year. Decorations, sparkling lights, holiday music and concerts, gifts, and cookies.

But tears are shed at Christmastime, too.
We are not spared from them, even in this joyous season.

We lost our darling sister-in-law, Mavis,
very suddenly last week. Unplanned. Not our timing at all. And perhaps not hers.

There were things to do, and time was running out. Cards had been sent; we received ours a week ago. But Christmas gifts had not yet been given; some were still unwrapped, and dinner needed to be planned.

But in her typical style and in her mind, there was always plenty of time for enjoying, and not wasting, every moment of life.

Taking time out for a movie with a good friend, she laughed and enjoyed the evening with her usual flair. Her Christmas to-do list would wait.

She left a half-cup of coffee on the table as she rushed out the door. And there by the table, and the half-cup of coffee, lay her devotional book, speaking to her of knowing peace in what lay ahead, of good things to come, all waiting for her.

Her to-do list won't be checked off because God had another plan for her. She not only left it behind, she considered it undeserving of any attention at all when God called.

It was the most wonderful Christmas gift she could receive, to be invited to join Him in Heaven on that night. She willingly took His hand. I am sure she lit up the sky, and I can clearly hear that special laugh as she takes in every moment of the joy that is hers now.

Though she didn't write this, and the author is unknown, she could have. It sounds just like her.

Tis Christmas in Heaven, what a beautiful sight.
It's my first one here; everything is all right.
I've met all our dear ones who preceded us here.
The reunion was lovely, an event full of cheer.

I think of you all that I left behind,
And pray that your Christmas is as blessed as mine.
Please don't shed tears for my soul is at rest.
Just love one another, live life to the best!

Yes, it's Christmas in Heaven, so I've heard them say.
Yet, Christmas in Heaven happens every day.

We said good-bye to Mavis today with a beautiful service, perfectly fitting for her in its style and elegance. We celebrated the life she lived, and the gifts she left us by simply being such a special part of our lives.

We shed tears, and it's okay. It is still a joyous season. The birth of the Christ Child, and our rebirth in Heaven, is great cause for celebration.

A joyous Christmas is wished for you!