I Believe
I believe my Mother’s essence is in many objects that I have in my home. Not so much in the antique dishes or her personal jewelry, but in the things she infused with her love. I believe that her soul speaks to me through the stitches she loving put into place over the years of her life. I feel her love in the baby quilt she embroidered for her children, the ring pillow she made for my wedding, in the yarn she transformed into beautiful pieces of art and the scraps of material from the clothes she made for her granddaughters and their dolls, later quilted together.
I believe that my Aunt Thelma’s essence is strong in items she left behind and that she must be happy we find both uses and joy in them today. They are things that were dear to her and I have the privilege now of calling them mine. I love them not for themselves but because I loved her so much and I feel her presence when I see them.
She was taught by her church that it was a duty to bear children and it was probably her greatest disappointment in life that she did not conceive. She loved me and other nieces and nephews, she loved my daughters, too. How sweet her smile must be as she watches my granddaughter, who Aunt Thelma never met, sew pieces of lace from her 91 year old wedding dress into the wedding dress that Kate will wear next month. I know her soul is happy today.
I believe my husband’s essence is the flowers that grow in our courtyard where he planted them. In caring for them, I continue to learn from him about the effort it takes to give beauty its fullest potential. His soul lives on nourishing the plants, keeping me company and giving me purpose.
I believe that my maternal Grandparents’ essences are present when I pick up one of their Bibles. I know how important these books were to them and not just as a place to record family records of births, marriages, and deaths. They also recorded other important information such as their Social Security Numbers and the date of their last tetanus shots!
Seriously, the Bible was holy to them. They each read from it daily and they carried it with them to their little country church, Mt. Vernon Baptist, twice each Sunday and usually at least once in the middle of the week. Their souls are close by those worn and precious books.
Nature is not only all that is visible to the eye… it also includes the inner pictures of the soul.” Evard Munch
Crooked Creek by Sue Mattingly 
Love the remembrances of things past…Mom wrote many of hers and her own mother’s recipes and gave them to me years ago. When I look at them, I see her handwriting, remember the smells that emanated from the kitchen, and the time and devotion that went into everything she did- all from scratch.
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Hi Aunt Sue! I’m a little behind reading your entries so please forgive. I especially enjoyed this one. I am very much attuned to how you feel when you refer to the things given or handed down to us from loved ones. They mean so much more than the actual item. I keep things that others would consider junk JUST because it once belonged to someone i loved. Keep up the good writing! It is appreciated!
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Thank you Christy. I’m so glad that you love such items from family and friends.
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So very eloquent. This piece certainly touches my soul.
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Thank you Lula. I’m so glad.
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