Updated on October 25, 2014
Updated on October 25, 2014
Late last evening, I was admiring the beautiful patchwork table round that a dear friend of my parents’ made for them.
As I looked at all the patterns in the fabric, I noticed that not one is the same; all different, or variations in color of the same pattern. The stitching is fancy and so perfect. I admired the handiwork of the artist, and thought about how, now that I’m older, I appreciate the creativity and effort a gift like this requires.
I recalled the doilies my grandma used to crochet. Remembering that my mom had framed some, I went over to the “memory corner” in their house to look for them. On the wall are two framed doilies, pictures of both sets of my grandparents on their wedding day, a picture from my parents wedding day. On the floor are my great-grandmother’s spinning wheel and a cast iron boiler. On the little table sits an old oil lamp. Memories of simpler times.
I appreciate these memories now. Back when I was younger, I accepted the gifts of some of my grandmother’s handiwork, but didn’t really appreciate her creativity and effort. I had no idea what they would mean now. Looking at these things through more mature lenses, I have a different perspective. I see my past, present and future all wrapped up in the legacy my family has passed down. These are souvenirs of a rich heritage, a history that has formed me, and my family.
I wonder what my own children look over now that one day they will look at again with new meaning. I think about who I am, where I’ve been, what I’ve learned. I want so much to look my children in the eyes and zap them with all the experience I have. And then, I am reminded that their journey is their own. They have to gain understanding and appreciation the same way I did – through a life lived and lessons learned the hard way.
One day, they will understand. They will look at the history, the legacy of our family and see the fingerprints of God all over us. They will appreciate the handiwork of a life well lived. I don’t have to force it. I don’t have to make it happen. I trust that they will grow into the man and woman God created them to be. They will live their own story, just as I have lived my own. Their journey, their story is their own.
Our lives are like patchwork in the history of our family. The beauty is in the difference we each bring. No piece, no story, no contribution quite the same.
How rich. How lovely. How beautifully created by The Creator.
What does the patchwork of your life, your family look like? Can you see how the different pieces work together to create the whole?
This post is installment #25 of a 31 day writing challenge. You can read the rest of my posts here:
Day one, Day two, Day three, Day four, Day five, Day six, Day seven, Day eight, Day nine, Day ten, Day 11, Day 12, Day 13, Day 14, Day 15, Days 16/17, Days 18/19, Day 20, Day 21, Day 22, Day 23, Day 24