Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Behind a School Bus

I got behind a school bus on the way home today.  My first thought was, GREAT!  It was a mistake to come this way today.  What a silly fool I was to think it was a mistake.  Have you seen a child get off a school bus lately?  They are happy and EXCITED about going home. 

I watched as one little girl about 5 or 6 years old got off the bus to her little sister running across the yard to meet her.  Mom and Dad stood on the front porch watching as the two girls embraced in a hug of love.  The two girls joined hands and ran across the yard to greet Mama and Daddy with big smiles.
 Another little boy seemed to fly off the bus. When his feet hit the ground, he was already in a run for the front door, backpack flapping his back. What waited on the other side of the door? Mama with an afternoon snack of homemade cookies and cold whole milk? An older sibling who would let him play video games for a little while before Daddy gets home? A ball game with the other boys from the neighborhood? Whatever activity was planned for the afternoon, the little boy’s excitement showed in his speedy race for the door.

I was in a hurry this afternoon, too. I was not sitting on the edge of my seat with the excited anticipation of hitting the ground running when the bus stopped, though. When did life become all work and no play? I believe it is time to ride the bus home and hit the ground running again. October is National Walking month, and I have already signed up for the national walking program at www.walktober.com. I am determined to hit the ground running in the afternoons and walking at least 30 minutes every afternoon. This is a good time to listen to the birds! What is it they are saying to me? Did I hear a chirping song of “It’s Time to Catch the Bus?”

Sunday, September 12, 2010

My Mother's Scissors


My mother was a very talented lady. I don’t think I understood that when I was a child. She did not work outside the home until after I was grown. Children do not recognize domestic engineering as a job because it is simply the result of love, right? How can expressing love in cleaning, cooking, reading, teaching, sharing, gardening, sewing, and laughing be work? Children just don’t understand. Sometimes adults don’t either.

Mama made a lot of my clothes. She could sew AND knit! I remember a few items more than others. Remember koolocs? I couldn’t wait for Mama to finish an orange pair she made just for her little girl. Oh! I had the most lovely poncho. I loved that poncho as a girl and would love to have one like it now.

In the last few years, I have worked at picking up sewing. WORKED at it! Sewing is not easy! I bet I spend just as many hours ripping out as I do stitching up! Mama made it look so easy. I’ve seen Mama lay out newspaper on the floor and make a pattern. Seriously! I can barely get a printed pattern out of the package without a mishap. Every item I have sewn has little mistakes. I can tuck most of them in and hide them from the world, but some of them show. I guess that is fitting because I do the same with my personal blemishes. My sewing never looks professional like Mama’s did, but I enjoy it just the same. Well . . . . when I am not ripping out, pricking my fingers with a pin or needle, and cursing like a Sailor I enjoy it!

Mother’s Toolbox

 Wooden Spools  

Yellow Measuring Tape

Silver Scissors  

Sewing Box   


Seam Ripper  

Unconditional Love    

Last week I had a conversation with a friend about her mother’s scissors. She was purging and found that she just could not bring herself to let go of her mother’s scissors. Even for someone who doesn’t sew, a Mother’s sewing tools are too intimate to part with.

I don’t know what went with my mother’s scissors. I don’t remember seeing them after she moved back to Colorado. I have a lot of Mama’s things, but not her scissors. I guess it is just as well because I also don’t have her talent. I hope one of my children will treasure my own scissors someday as much as I treasure the memory of my mother’s scissors.