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When the Torch is Passed

11/14/2018

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This past week I lost the last of my aunts. The last of that generation of women in our family. The small town and farmer’s wives. The seamstresses and canners. The cooks and gardeners. The keepers of the houses of my vacation visits. The mothers of the cousins I ran with and the barely known older cousins. The repositories of memories of my father as a young boy and witnesses to grandparents that I never knew. And as I talked to a family member from my generation they commented that the torch for us women had been passed. We were now the oldest women in our individual family lines. It was up to our generation now. 

So I have been thinking. What exactly does that mean “to pass the torch”? What does it mean to be one of the older women? For my individual family what does this torch look like?  By definition to pass the torch means to take on the responsibilities, traditions and knowledge of another when they are no longer able. As my children are adults, they are responsible for themselves now and in turn for families of their own. Yes, we follow some traditions that are longstanding, but have also bent some for modern circumstances. The world we live in changes so fast that knowledge is outdated in the blink of an eye. So perhaps the concept of this torch, lit long ago, is allowed to change.

So here are some thoughts on my modern torch. I will be responsible not for every member of the family, but I will be the silent backbone. My responsibility is to give advice when asked, help when needed and to be there. I will continue the traditions that work for me, learn and share those that work for others and serve as a reminder that the most important tradition is to be a good person in all circumstances and to remember where your blessings come from. As for knowledge, it is useless unless shared. So ask and I will tell you what I know. I hope this is enough to keep the flame burning. Until the torch is passed again.







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UFO's

11/9/2018

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No I did not have a recent alien encounter. I had a different experience. At a recent crafter’s retreat I took some time to work on what is referred to as an “ unfinished object”. A UFO if you will. Something that you have had put away that is started but never finished. Perhaps like mine it is from a long ago class where some technique was learned but the project itself was then put aside because of time constraints. Perhaps your color choices, material combinations or techniques have evolved way beyond this basic first try but you never dropped the project in the trash (can’t waste it) or gave it away (not right for me but someone else might like it). So why revisit it at all?

Because I find after some reflection there is merit to be uncovered in that first try. I can see now that the seams may not be perfectly straight and the sewing may not have been on point. The way the cloth is put together is simple. But the material prints and colors remain pleasing to me. That simple pattern is classic. I now have enough experience to sew better and fix, or at least tweak, those imperfect seams into a pleasing finished product. And it is a little window into what my heart was creating so many years ago.

​To be honest I will never be done with my UFO’s. Because I, myself, am my own constant unfinished project. To be perfected and tweaked. To be changed with experience but still retaining some of that fabric from the original bolt. Perhaps one day to be a pleasing finished product. The ultimate UFO.
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Picking Up Pennies

4/3/2018

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It was laying there in the parking lot at my feet. Barely recognizable on the ground due to being discolored by the weather and run over by countless vehicles. I’m sure many people had passed it by, if they even noticed it, because after all what is a penny really worth? Nothing at all in this day and age, right?

​And yet I picked it up. I always do. I put pennies in my change container in my car or the change jar in the kitchen. It’s a habit that I never really thought about. But today for some reason, I stopped and really looked at that beaten up piece of copper. What does picking up that penny really say about me? And here’s what came to mind. I don’t pick them up because they will make me rich. I don’t pick them up because I am totally frugal and can’t waste anything. I believe I pick them up because I know that small parts put together make a worthwhile whole. Because I understand that to have success many pieces of a puzzle have to be put together over a period of time. Because I know that taking joy in the small moments of life is better than banking on having huge exciting events. Appreciate the penny and a dollar may come. Appreciate the daily journey of your life and your destination will be reached. 

So I will continue to pick up any pennies that I see. Just as I will wake up every day and be appreciative of what it has to offer. Who knows what the pennies in life will add up to? Everyone sees small things in different ways.

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Life is like a Box of Oranges

3/6/2018

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I like to buy oranges in the winter time from a truck that comes to our town straight from Florida. I look forward to the day when it arrives with all that Florida sunshine bundled in round orange packages that I can take home and open up. Besides keeping me healthy it tastes so good, way better than what is usually found in the bins at the local grocery stores. So the extra effort and cost is well worth it.

As I look over the box of new fruit I can’t help but notice that all oranges, by outward appearance anyway, are not created equal. Some have perfect unblemished peels. Some are perfectly round. And some are quite the opposite. Bumpy, lopsided and at times spotted they stand out in the crowd. In the grocery store I’m sure no one would want them. But here in my box I’ve learned something about them. Most of the time they are the best. That ugly peel covers the most delicious fruit. Yummy and juicy, fragrant and fresh they beat out the perfect oranges almost every time. Perfection it seems, may be highly over rated.

​So in my world, life is not like a box of chocolates as the popular movie states. It’s more like a box of oranges. And the people and experiences that inhabit it do resemble that assortment of orange orbs in the box. Now I’m not saying that some of my oranges aren’t perfect because they are. But what I am saying is I find so much value and interest in those imperfect oranges that I remain fascinated and willing to look deeper than the peel to see what’s underneath. So sort through your orange boxes everyone, and see what’s been rolling around in there. Look under that peel and you might just be pleasantly surprised.
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