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The Power of Remembering

12/4/2019

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When I was younger I made a metal embossed picture of a flower bouquet and gave it to my mother as a present. She kept it for years and taped it up every Christmas in a very prominent spot. Now it was nicely done, but as I grew older, I really didn’t want to see that picture put up every year. Freehand drawing is not my strong suit and the year she hung it upside down was really the last straw. (It was a flower bouquet for goodness sake! Couldn’t she see the stems were pointing up?) But she could not be budged. It was taped above the fireplace each year much to my dismay. I never could understand it.

I just finished my decorating this year and came to a startling conclusion. Even though my kids are grown I am still using some of their early artwork in my festive efforts each year. Is this a terrible genetic defect? Is it a long standing family curse that can’t be escaped? Or is there something more common going on here? I had to stop for a moment and reflect. There are certainly enough beautiful decorations flooding the market so why do I sprinkle these small holiday offerings from my kids throughout the rooms? And it came to me -- they aren’t just objects made for me long ago. They are mini time machines. The letters may be crooked and the sequins may be falling off with age. Edges show chipping and the glue is cracking. But I only have to close my eyes to be transported back to a table full of smiling faces. I hear the pitter patter of Pajama feet on Christmas morning. I smell hot chocolate and rolled Christmas cookies. They hold massive power.


So now I begin to understand. I am no longer dismayed. I am in the club. The admission ticket is time. It makes me smile discovering this secret. And I can imagine houses all over where mothers and grandmothers are sprinkling children’s art and presents among the decorations. Because they know the power of remembering.
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The New Classroom

10/23/2019

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For all of you wondering why the Wistful Grandma has not posted any information about classes for awhile, here’s why. I have been busy planning a class space in my home. Last year improvements to studio space were accomplished. That has made so much difference to the ability to create and produce more product. I have a dedicated space to dream, plan and assemble my quirky crew of grandmas, spindleheads and seasonal items. And each night a door to close upon my sometimes jumbled, but personally organized creative zone. No more daily pick up or infringement upon family space.

I love this new studio in which I spend many creative hours. But I also love teaching skills to students. So the idea of remodeling a large gathering area adaptable to classes was born. No more searching for community venues with enough room, proper lighting and tables big enough for students. No more hauling bins of supplies in and out of my van. Reference materials and extra examples will be at my fingertips. This opens up many new possibilities.

​So thanks everyone for your patience. The last parts of the room are coming together. Watch for updates and pictures, as well as a class schedule, in the coming months. I’m excited about what the future holds for The Wistful Grandma. And remember #AlwaysBeWistful
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Dreams in a Can

10/16/2019

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A while ago I spent some time painting one of my granddaughter's bedroom walls. Instead of another gift of toys or books for her birthday we decided to give her parents money to buy paint and then supply the labor to apply it. I have painted a lot of walls over the years. In apartments when I was single. In our first rambling farmhouse home. In our present house; first when we were a young family and again as we repurpose rooms now it’s just the two of us. But painting for the grandchildren is a whole other experience.

It was painting with a constant stream of very interesting chatter supplied by a ten year old. But if you really listen to that constant chatter within it are some heart stopping moments. When we told her the first can of paint was used up and empty she shook her head and said “Oh Grandma! There were so many dreams in that can!” I stopped short. I thought I was just putting paint on a wall. But she had picked out her color carefully, spent time thinking about how it would look and daydreamed about life in her freshly colored room. Of course there were dreams in that can. What could I possibly reply to that?

I thought for a moment and said “Now your dreams are spread out on your walls and are all around you”. She seemed happy with that. And I realized that we weren’t just painting a room. Although that was the original intent of the gift, we had become dream spreaders for a small girl with a big imagination. And if her can of paint could accomplish so much, we all need to grab a few buckets and paint a few walls. The world would be a much better place.

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New Growth

6/18/2019

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One of the things I like about early summer is seeing the way evergreen trees show their bright green new growth. We have had copious rain here and everywhere you go the evergreens are showing lush new needles on the tips of their branches. It is a good year for growing things.

If only people could show their new growth in some tangible way like the evergreen trees. I believe I would look for those interesting people with the bright new green growth showing on their fingertips. They would be the lifelong learners. The book readers. The crafts people and artists. The growers and healers. Dreamers and writers, explorers across timelines: I would choose them for my companions. I would be able to eliminate with a glance the closed minded and unbending. The “my way or the highway” sorts. The people content to do life the same way never looking for new ideas, viewpoints or taking a chance. They would have no new green needles on their fingertips.

But it’s not that easy. The visible growth signs in people are just not as obvious as bright new green needles. At times I may glimpse a telltale twinkle in the eye or a lift in the footstep. But the most likely time to find growing people is when I strive to grow myself. At the edges and crossroads of my days. When I myself am changing. When I am both daring and being my most true self. That’s when I find green needles popping out. And I can say it’s a good year for growing things.
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