Having a family moment the other night, putting up the tree. Horsey Daughter and Hubby jamming the fake limbs into the real tree trunk I drilled full of holes. Handy that you can shove this tree flat against a wall and put the branches where you want them.
I putter in the kitchen putting up wreaths and candlesticks and other Christmas paraphenalia. Horsey Daughter is hanging the decorations. THe glass Santa from the 30s gets a place of honour near the top. SHe remarks how she remembers these decorations from when she was very little. I remember some of them from when I was little!
She picks up a decoration. A handmade sheep, meticulously done in coiled paper. There is handwriting on the back that she reads aloud, "From Silkiebantam, to remember the Cross Canada Quilt, Christmas 2010".
Many of you were part of that event. It has faded from many minds, as these sorts of things do. But it holds a fond place in my heart for all the unexpected things that grew from it.
Since that cross Canada undertaking, I have developed an ongoing friendship with Blackdove, who has become very dear to me. We have never met. We may never. But we talk everyday. We have found a kindred spirit in each other, a blessing to each of us, a support. I would never have expected it, yet there it was and I am thankful for it.
As we were collecting donations for Heifer International, handwritten notes and cards came pouring to my house and as I've said before, each envelope I held in my hand was like holding the hand of the person who wrote it. I felt a real, personal connection with each act of faith that sent money to my home, with no guarantee other than my word. I was so deeply honoured. Here it is going into Christmas 2012, and I still have every letter that was sent to me. Every one. I am not a keeper, but I have kept those.
Sometimes children wrote to me. Squiggly kid writing in crayon with wild illustrations of their moms and dads and siblings and dogs. I wrote those kids back. I said thank you. And for a short time there was letter exchanging. Kids get bored and move on to other things and that is as it should be. But while they wanted to write letters, I was game. I had kid art on my fridge for a long time. I am so lucky.
One of the little girls I wrote to was SilkieBantam's daughter. She told me about her adventurous life in Usk. Silkie made and sent me that decoration the Christmas of the Quilt year. I cherish it. It has a special place. Not all the decorations can go on the tree. But that one does.
I truly hope that Silkie reads this and knows that she is thought of, missed, encouraged and valued. I hope she knows what memories came flooding back when Daughter lifted her white, lovely sheep out of the decoration box. I hope all of you pause to ponder that sometimes the small acts you do, which seem trivial, can have far reaching and profound impact. That each of you can do more good that you can possibly imagine. Small acts with big effects. That quiet, white sheep that Silkie made for me reminded me of the many people whose trusting and hopeful spirits got a crazy quilt project off the ground,across this vast country of Canada and livestock purchased somewhere for someone who needed them. Awesome. The whole thing was awesome. And we were there together.
To children who write in crayon, to giving people who jump onboard projects, to helpful people who reach out to those in need, to those who know how to encourge and those who make us laugh. Those who listen and those who punch us on the shoulder and tell us to suck it up. To those who are still here with us and those who have moved on from the site into other life adventures. Those people are you, dear WCPSer. You. Merry Christmas.
I putter in the kitchen putting up wreaths and candlesticks and other Christmas paraphenalia. Horsey Daughter is hanging the decorations. THe glass Santa from the 30s gets a place of honour near the top. SHe remarks how she remembers these decorations from when she was very little. I remember some of them from when I was little!
She picks up a decoration. A handmade sheep, meticulously done in coiled paper. There is handwriting on the back that she reads aloud, "From Silkiebantam, to remember the Cross Canada Quilt, Christmas 2010".
Many of you were part of that event. It has faded from many minds, as these sorts of things do. But it holds a fond place in my heart for all the unexpected things that grew from it.
Since that cross Canada undertaking, I have developed an ongoing friendship with Blackdove, who has become very dear to me. We have never met. We may never. But we talk everyday. We have found a kindred spirit in each other, a blessing to each of us, a support. I would never have expected it, yet there it was and I am thankful for it.
As we were collecting donations for Heifer International, handwritten notes and cards came pouring to my house and as I've said before, each envelope I held in my hand was like holding the hand of the person who wrote it. I felt a real, personal connection with each act of faith that sent money to my home, with no guarantee other than my word. I was so deeply honoured. Here it is going into Christmas 2012, and I still have every letter that was sent to me. Every one. I am not a keeper, but I have kept those.
Sometimes children wrote to me. Squiggly kid writing in crayon with wild illustrations of their moms and dads and siblings and dogs. I wrote those kids back. I said thank you. And for a short time there was letter exchanging. Kids get bored and move on to other things and that is as it should be. But while they wanted to write letters, I was game. I had kid art on my fridge for a long time. I am so lucky.
One of the little girls I wrote to was SilkieBantam's daughter. She told me about her adventurous life in Usk. Silkie made and sent me that decoration the Christmas of the Quilt year. I cherish it. It has a special place. Not all the decorations can go on the tree. But that one does.
I truly hope that Silkie reads this and knows that she is thought of, missed, encouraged and valued. I hope she knows what memories came flooding back when Daughter lifted her white, lovely sheep out of the decoration box. I hope all of you pause to ponder that sometimes the small acts you do, which seem trivial, can have far reaching and profound impact. That each of you can do more good that you can possibly imagine. Small acts with big effects. That quiet, white sheep that Silkie made for me reminded me of the many people whose trusting and hopeful spirits got a crazy quilt project off the ground,across this vast country of Canada and livestock purchased somewhere for someone who needed them. Awesome. The whole thing was awesome. And we were there together.
To children who write in crayon, to giving people who jump onboard projects, to helpful people who reach out to those in need, to those who know how to encourge and those who make us laugh. Those who listen and those who punch us on the shoulder and tell us to suck it up. To those who are still here with us and those who have moved on from the site into other life adventures. Those people are you, dear WCPSer. You. Merry Christmas.
