Category Archives: Being a Daughter

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Meant to be Used

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I have been blessed to have beautiful heirloom coverlets, table cloths, and quilts made by both my grandmothers, some great aunts and my husband’s mother, aunts, and grandmother.

All except for one set, these treasures are in pristine condition even though they are 70 to 80+ years old.

Why is that?

These hand made treasures still look brand new because they were never used!

These gifted ladies spent countless hours designing, cutting, sewing, crocheting, and finishing these items. I have pillow cases with hand crocheted borders and table cloths with embroidered patterns and bound edges. All made by hand – all skillfully rendered.

Never used.

My husband’s Aunt Priscilla gave me a crocheted table cloth and table runner that was hand made by her aunt that had never been used. Aunt Priscilla was born in 1915, so her aunt probably made them around the early 1900’s. I use them frequently, and with care. I do the same with the hand decorated pillowcases and tablecloths.

When my parents recently moved from our home to the retirement community where they now reside, they had to downsize. Mother brought out the coverlet pictured above that was hand crocheted by her mother – Svea Anderson Rohner. It is one of the most beautifully crocheted pieces I have ever seen – so even and precise. Mother asked if I would like it and I told her I would be honored to have it – but I would use it – with care.

It now graces the antique bed in our guest room, my parents’ former bedroom. It looks so pretty there, just like it belongs! I do replace it with a nice, but more durable quilt when guests with children use that room. I want the coverlet to remain lovely so I can pass it on to the next generation. I also don’t want to worry someone using the guest room.

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Still – I DO use it. If it does gets a stain on it – I will try to remove it.

It was meant to be used.

I did mention one set of heirlooms that aren't in pristine condition. These are two quilts made by my father's mother, Grace Auman Barker, that are worn, even a bit tattered in places. Yet they are beautiful hand work and warm and cozy to use. My Grandmother Barker was a very practical person. I doubt she kept anything that she didn't use. I think she would be pleased that these quilts are used by her great and great-great grandchildren!

One reason I enjoy using these handmade objects, besides their beauty, is that they remind me of the ones who lovingly made them.

I treasure the quilt and the coverlet because my grandmothers who made them were women who had a great impact on my life. They were very different in personality, yet each loved God and desired to honor Him with her life. Each had a unique influence on me – each loved me.

God has given us something that He wants us to treasure – something that is meant to be used.

His Word.

God has revealed Himself to us in the Bible and God also unveils His plan to redeem our lives through His Son, Jesus. If my Bible is just a book that is put on a shelf but never used, it is similar to all those lovely things my relatives made and stored away in trunks and bureau drawers – of absolutely no use.

I honor my family members when I treasure and use the lovely things they made.

I honor God when I treasure and read His Word. Just before Jesus was crucified on the cross, He prayed for us – His followers. John 17:13 – 19

13 “Now I am coming to you. I told them many things while I was with them in this world so they would be filled with my joy. 14 I have given them your word. And the world hates them because they do not belong to the world, just as I do not belong to the world. 15 I’m not asking you to take them out of the world, but to keep them safe from the evil one. 16 They do not belong to this world any more than I do. 17 Make them holy by your truth; teach them your word, which is truth. 18 Just as you sent me into the world, I am sending them into the world. 19 And I give myself as a holy sacrifice for them so they can be made holy by your truth.

Jesus gave us his Father’s words. Now it is our priviledge to share God’s word – the Bible – with our children and grandchildren.

It is meant to be used.

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The Speck and the Log

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“So, do you want the fall colored set or the summer colored set?” I asked as two of our daughters allowed me to shop with them. We were looking at dish towels.

I say “allowed” me because truth be told, NONE of our four children like to shop with me. They say I look at everything in the store – even things I don’t want. I like to look.

Come to think of it, I don’t know anyone who does like to shop with me. Carol says I take too long, Alice Marie says I ask her what she thinks about something, and then after she offers her opinion, I ignor it.

I guess I wouldn’t want to shop with me either.

So, back to our daughters – I was asking them to pick out new dish towels because after staying in each of their homes recently, I noticed that their dish towels looked stained and dirty. Let me be clear – the towels were CLEAN! Yet we all know that after a while, the old dish towel is past the point of looking clean. They look like Chicago Bears uniforms when they play at home after a freeze – muddy and dirty! This is the point at which the old dish towel should begin it’s new life as a rag.

Neither daughter seemed to think that their towels were alll that bad. I assured them that oh, yes, they were and so reluctantly they each picked out a new set. Mission accomplished.

Two days later I was cleaning up in my own kitchen. I opened the towel drawer to get out a fresh, clean dish towel to hang over the freshly cleaned sink. The first one I chose was awful! How did this rag get into my towel drawer?

The next towel I chose to hang was no better! In fact, there was not one clean looking dish towel in my kitchen.

I had to smile as I remembered the urgency with which I talked my daughters into the necessity of clean looking dish towels. Yet, I had not noticed my own towels’ pitiful state.

How true this is of many areas of our lives. We are quick to notice the “dirty towels” in others lives, when ours’ may be just as bad or worse.

Jesus addressed this very issue in Luke 6:41-43 (NLT)

41 “And why worry about a speck in your friend’s eye when you have a log in your own? 42 How can you think of saying, ‘Friend, let me help you get rid of that speck in your eye,’ when you can’t see past the log in your own eye? Hypocrite! First get rid of the log in your own eye; then you will see well enough to deal with the speck in your friend’s eye.”

Could it be that the very thing we feel needs to be changed in our daughter-in-law (son-in-law) (neighbor) (co-worker) (fellow church worker) is an issue that we ourselves have trouble with?

How blind we can be to our own “issues!”

Next time I feel the need to “clean up” someone else’s towels – I best check my own first.

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Silent Night (3)

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Silent Night
By Abigail Hardy
It was December 5th, 1992.  As I rushed with my parents into the emergency room entrance late that night, a gurney sped past us.  Like a snapshot, I can remember, the sight of a leg, knee up in the air covered with a white sheet and below the knee, unnaturally, something large and black was bisecting the bloody leg.  Is that really what I saw?  I was too unsure to ask my parents.  I could tell they were more scared than they were willing to admit to me.
I sat in the waiting room of the ER.  I felt lost and unsteady as my parents went back to talk with the doctors.  Words like “accident” “coma” “racing” “head-on” were punctuating the air of the waiting room as people from our small church slowly filled it. 
Things like this do not happen to us.  Not to kids coming back from a church youth group trip.  Surely not, God. 
The van, driven by our church’s youth group leader and my Dad’s closest friend, had been hit head-on by a man in a Corvette.  He had been racing 120 mph down the curving road, some pieces of his car left hanging high in the trees. 
My oldest sister Hannah had been in the back of the van with four other junior high students from our church youth group, and two adult leaders in the front.  Kirsten, the energetic college student from WCU who helped with the youth group, died instantly.  Hannah was in a coma.  Mr. Brown, the driver, was the victim we had seen as we rushed into the ER with the brake pedal stuck through his lower leg and a broken pelvis and ribs.  He had been pinned in the car and had prayed with the kids and kept them calm until the emergency services arrived and were able to cut him out.  Another student had a serious head injury and the other three had escaped with broken bones or scrapes and bruises.
My sister had been airlifted to Memorial Mission in Asheville soon after my parents and I had arrived at the local ER.  When I got to visit her in the hospital the next day, I remember the sight of my mother, holding her hand, singing hymns and Christmas carols to her unresponsive body. 
On the third day, as my mother sang Silent Night to her daughter, she heard my sister’s voice join with hers.  Hannah had woken up.
This is the meaning of Christmas, lived out by the people I lived with. 
Mr. Brown, speaking peace to panicked kids as his own pain loomed like a giant wave above him. 
Kirsten, losing her life in the middle of obedience to Christ’s call on her to minister to kids.
My mom, singing Silent Night over my sister in total faith that God is our healer and restorer.
My sister, given back life through no merit or effort of her own, and, oh, so thankful for that gift.
And, yes, the tears fall when I sing Silent Night at Christmas.  Because this is a beautiful, broken world that our Almighty God was born to save.

Father God, we have joy and we have pain in this life.  I thank you for redeeming our pain and making our joy complete.