When our daughter was born I was absolutely thrilled. We had three sons and now we had a daughter I could fuss over. When she was old enough, about three months, I was at last able to dress her completely in the Irish point lace robe and bonnet that Bud’s great grandmother O’Brien had made. This robe had been used in three, now four generations of the family.
The photo above shows some of the detail but hardly does it justice. It is absolutely exquisite and has been handed down to us along with some very dainty collars, also point lace. When I think of the hours of patient tatting it took to produce such amazing handiwork, I feel very humbled indeed. I made three afghans (one each for three grandchildren) that in no way compare to such artistry. Now I want to preserve some of this loveliness for each of my grandchildren. I think perhaps the pieces should be carefully washed and set in a suitable frame. I will need to research just what will be the safest way to do that. They are wonderful treasures that need to be passed down.
I also have a dainty sampler embroidered back in 1846 by my great, great aunt. My mother had it put in a rich cherry frame and it sits above the organ in our living room. Across the room from it is the oak desk built for my grandmother from shipping timber by my great grandfather who was a ship’s carpenter. These objects are treasured, not only because of their age, but because of the loving thought that went into making them. I hope that something my husband and I have made will have as much meaning to our future generations. Even more than these things though, I treasure the faith that was passed down to me. That legacy is priceless and it is be my deepest desire to pass it on to my grandchildren. I pray that it will be so.
Here is a hymn I wrote for Autumn. It is the first hymn I created the music for with the help of my good friend, Harold Hellam. Harold arranged it for me. What a thrill to hear the congregation in our church sing it for the first time! Praise God for his many blessings.
Autumn Wears A Coat of Many Colours
Words by Mollie McKibbon
Music by Mollie McKibbon
Copyright 2011
Autumn wears a coat of many colours
Just like Joseph long ago:
Red and copper, gold and orange,
Everything in autumn glows.
God made all the colours of the rainbow,
Sky above and earth below;
Blue and purple, green and yellow,
Everything that lives and grows.
God made all his children like a rainbow,
Round and round the earth we go:
Eyes that sparkle, smiles that brighten.
It’s God’s love that makes us glow!
If you wish to use this hymn please contact me through this blog.
This Sunday will be the fortieth anniversary of when I first became a mother. I was excited and terrified all at the same time. The idea of being responsible for the safekeeping of a little body was thrilling and daunting. What if I did something terribly wrong and that little person was damaged in some way? I said a lot of prayers. I felt so protective every time I felt that little earthquake move .
Yes, our baby boy was born one hot July day on my mother’s birthday. She was so excited to become a grandmother that she had forgotten it was her special day. I told her, “Mom, this is the biggest present I could ever give you. Please don’t expect one every year!”
Our eldest and my mother celebrated their birthdays together every year until she passed away at 92, five years ago. She so loved being a grandmother and then eventually a great-grandmother, because one day our eldest son and his wife made me a grandmother too. What a joy that has been! Now we have three grandchildren, two from my eldest and one from his younger brother. Like every other grandparent, we think our grandchildren are the smartest and the most handsome in the whole world.
And then one day, I stopped and thought – Oh my, being a grandmother means I should be wise. Little grandchildren need to have wise grandparents. My hair is threaded through with grey now, my ears need hearing aids, and I often forget where my glasses (purse, address book, or keys) are so I guess that means I am older. But wiser?
If I am so wise now, why do I feel sometimes like the child who was always the new girl at school? Why do I feel surprised when I see this older lady looking back at me in the mirror? When my dear husband pays me a compliment I feel like I’m the 22 year old he married, but as I told my grandchildren, I know I creak and squeak now when I get out of my chair.
Our oldest once asked his dad (though he will no doubt deny it now) how old he was before he knew everything. Wow! Now that was a compliment. Of course, my husband modestly protested that he was still waiting for that day to arrive. Wisdom might be knowing that you still have much to learn.
It is said wisdom comes from experience. Perhaps that is true. I know that if I have a pill (and I do) that is too large to swallow, apple sauce will send it down gently without me gagging. I know the signs of seasonal change because I’ve seen a lot of seasons and besides, my arthritis never lies. I know that the smell of a newborn, freshly washed, is the sweetest smell on earth and, conversely, a heavy diaper is not so pleasant. I know that sometimes a child will have a temper tantrum and then fall asleep in your arms. I know how hard it is to get grocery shopping done when a child is tired and balky and I sympathize with the mother. I know enough to answer some questions and leave other answers for moms and dads. I know how hard it is to be a preteen, trying to leave childhood behind and be recognized as a full-sized person. I know that seventeen is even harder when you are so anxious to be getting on with LIFE and you are stuck in a awkward gawky body that never seems to do what you want it to do. Does this make me wise? Gee, I hope so. It is all I have to give. So far. I’m still learning.
Forty years ago, a tiny baby boy set me on a journey of adventure I never could have imagined. All his siblings look up to him, not always in agreement, but with respect as the oldest in our family. He is a responsible adult with his own children, a sweet wife, and a home. He is thoughtful, honorable and caring. We are very proud of him, as all parents should be of their children, and we cherish fond memories of his childhood years. Someday he will be the patriarch of the family clan. And you know what? One day our grandson will ask his father the same question. “Dad, how old were you when you knew everything?” What do you think his answer will be?
penpaletteheart 