Not long ago my friend Ingrid wrote a post about the treasures she has in her home that were made by hands that are dear to her. It made me take pause. Inspired, I began to tiptoe through the room I was in (kitchen), peeking in drawers and cupboards, seeking to find generational blessings.
Day to day doesn't often yield thoughts of pleasure over functional wares, yet during this little treasure hunt I found myself in wonderment at times.
"Hands that never knew me created this for me to use."
"Hands that love(d) me wanted me to know it in this simple way."
Smiles kept surfacing.
The potholders (clockwise from upper left): My mama's 1st sewing projects as a little girl. Made by me about 5 years ago. My great grandmother, Rachel, for my mama's trousseau. Great grandmother, Virgie, for my grandmother's trousseau.
2 side by side: 1st project my grandma did on her brand new treadle machine after she was married. Paper rose made by a teenage friend, who may as well be family, for my 41st birthday.
"It is gently and respectfully amusing to me, the DIY buzz and idealization of the “meaningful, handmade home,” having grown up as I did on a little hippie farm, surrounded by pet goats, chickens, and voluntary simplicity, during a time when this was not much valued by the mainstream culture. I can’t help but wonder if the same mall-clad middle-school girls who mocked my meaningful, handmade clothes in the ’80s are at this very moment earnestly laboring over hand-knits and trying to tap the trees in their backyard." ~ Ingrid