My husband and I were having our traditional Sunday morning breakfast recently and he made a comment that got me to thinking. We were discussing events that were constant in our lives when we were growing up. What was obvious at the time was that although it might have seemed like people were merely going through the motions to do what was expected for holidays and family gatherings, it was so much more. No one went into deep thought, I am almost certain, to map out what the outcome might be in the minds of the children who were a part. I imagine that in most instances, it was more focused on what was being served and making sure not to tick off the crazy uncle who almost always came ready to dive deep into controversy at the drop of a hat. These are the things that help to weave the tapestries of our lives and provide the recall that will become the answers to questions that we adults have as to why are we here.
What was interesting is that as my husband and I talked, we both recalled how the smells of different foods and colors had a way of transporting us back to our childhood and reliving that moment in time as though we were there again.
This happened to my husband on this particular morning as he grasped the butter knife in his hand. He said to me, this is “Nana”! I asked him what he meant by that and he said the feel of the knife in his hand reminded him of what it felt like when he ate a meal at his grandmother’s table. He went further to explain that his grandmother loved to fuss over people and therefore made it a point to use the best for her family and friends. Interestingly enough, he said she was very much like me. His grandmother made it a point to always use the good stuff.
Unlike my grandmother, who had good stuff that she either made; she was an excellent seamstress, or in the case of special dinnerware that was gifted from some of her clients whose laundry she took in, she believed in saving it for a special occasion. Sadly, for her, the special occasion rarely happened. She departed this earth and most of the good stuff was destroyed in a devastating fire many years later and with it all the opportune memories that could have been made and legacies built for the next generation, including myself. I guess when I think about it though, I got the important good stuff for me, that ultimately helped to shape me into the woman that I have become.
The truth is we have no way of knowing what will be the impact on the people whom were are fortunate to have grace our lives. We may think we are setting the perfect table when in fact, that simple act of using the good stuff, could very well be weaving a special pattern for what will become the fabric of someone’s life.
As the mother of adult children, what I know for sure is this. We do the best we can with what we have in the hope that what we do will make the right kinds of imprints in the hearts of those whom we are blessed to love. There is no perfect recipe. The important thing is that we make it a point, whether it be good china or simple acts of kindness, to always use the good stuff.
Because life should be good. How good is that…
Deigratia,
Bonnie
