old silver, old women and grace

I opened my silverware drawer this morning to get a spoon for my tea. The old silver, some bent and worn, caught my eye and I stood remembering... giving thanks... for the women who had come before me and left me this silver treasure.
I have always been a stainless kind of person... no muss, no fuss, no polishing. When the children were at home, stainless forks and knives could be replaced inexpensively. If a spoon got left at the lemonade stand and lost, there was no reason for trauma. Leaving serving spoons at church potluck dinners was an inconvenience not an emotional loss. But, that changed a few years ago.
My mother and I were helping clean out Michael’s parents house after his mother’s death. There sat the set of sterling silver in a beautiful wooden case... lovingly collected during her lifetime and used at all the family dinners. My first instinct was to sell it but mama stopped me. "You might be sorry someday that you didn’t keep it", she said. So, I kept it, brought it home and put it away.
A week or so later as I was unpacking boxes of our kitchen equipment that had been stored while we built our house, I found another treasure trove of old silver. It had belonged to my grandmother, my Aunt Nina, Uncle Carl and my great-grandmother... beautiful old silver... soft... worn... the patina from years of use. It had been packed away all the years I had been raising children.
What was I saving this for? I decided to put all the silver in one drawer and use it everyday... everyday... not just for special occasions... not just for big family dinners... but everyday. When I get a spoon for tea, I can choose to remember Aunt Nina and use her Art Deco style silver... or I can choose a spoon that belonged to my great-grandmother... or I can remember Ann Hester and her spectacular parties as I use one of her spoons. And guess what? I don’t have to polish the silver! Since we have well water, there is no chlorine in the water to tarnish it. It can go through the dishwasher and come out looking lovely.
So many of the beautiful, wonderful, good things in my life stay packed away... waiting for the right time to enjoy them. When the children are grown... when we have more time... when the house is finished... when we retire...when I get the list all done... when I have it all together... That time of perfection will not come while I am alive.
What am I waiting for? My life drawer is full... not with good underwear and clothes to be saved... but with joy and peace and love and community and hope. It is time to unpack them and begin to savor their presence in my life.
The writer of Proverbs said "Keep and guard your heart with all vigilance... for out of it flow the springs of life". My heart can be found in old silver... stray dogs... Daddy’s cows... the farm... Michael... our children and grandchildren... a full moon on a clear, cold night... my friends... my church... my God, the fount of every blessing in my life. As I write, I am unpacking my drawer to share with you. Thanks be to God for friends like you... you are guarded in my heart and are a part of the springs that flow bringing life to me.

Snow Treasures

We had our first snow of the season last night. The wind was fierce... it scoured the landscape clean as the snow fell sideways. The intense cold bit my face and hands as I raced to the house from the car. Safe inside, surrounded by warmth and candlelight, I surveyed the world outside... solid white everywhere I looked... no mountain views, no yard, no lights in the distance... just white.
I love winter. I always have. Some of my earliest memories of my mother’s voice sound in my head..."Peggy, put a coat on. You are making me cold! " It never got very cold in South Georgia. Forty degrees when you woke up was a cold spell and a killing frost usually didn’t come until the end of December. It snowed once in my memory as a child...
I was in a split sixth/seventh grade class that was taught by the Methodist minister, Mr. Gurr. He was a World War II veteran and gave us a thorough grounding in that part of our country’s recent past. I suspect he taught school because the Clyattville Methodist Church did not pay a salary large enough for his family to live on. Other Methodist pastors and Pastor’s wives passed through our little school as teachers also.
That day lives clearly in my memory. Twelve years old, hair in tight curls from my first permanent wave, brown and yellow plaid dress, freckles and a grin... standing with my nose in a circle drawn on the blackboard (one of Mr. Gurr’s disciplinary methods) for an infraction long forgotten... hearing the joyful shout from Ed Cunningham... "It’s snowing!" Mr. Gurr, bless him, immediately let us run out into the schoolyard where we stood in joyful disarray... catching snowflakes on our tongues... watching the flakes flow down from the grey skies... light, fluffy stuff of legends for us... never before seen or felt. The snowfall was all too short and melted as quickly as it fell... but the enchantment lingered.
As an adult, I have been lucky to live in places where snow was a normal part of winter season. Making a snow Miss Piggy... snowball fights... shaking branches laden with snow just as your husband walks under them... a blizzard that altered our pattern of living and reminded us of nature’s power and our powerlessness (literally and figuratively)... sledding with the children and making snow angels... all a part of my winter landscape memories.
There are several things I treasure about snow. The light is changed when snow is on the ground. It is brighter, clearer, crisper... objects seem to shimmer in the clean, cold air. There is a sharp edge to every thing you see. Sometimes you will see something that is not new but is made visible by the contrast with the snow. The sound is different with snow... gentler, sightly muffled, not as abrasive or confusing. And the snow covering of all the messiness that comes with daily living... there are no visible cow piles... no stubby weeds... no kudzu vines... only a blanket of clean, white snow. Time takes on a different quality... children’s rejoicing in the present of snow adds a celebration to snow time... it gives us a chance to separate ourselves from the everydayness of time. How wonderful snow is...
I wish winter could bring a blanket of snow to cover my mistakes... my sharp edges... wipe out and erase the painful memories of loss and anger and grief and fear... bring a snow light to illumine my second chances... the soft sound of the Holy moving in the world and in my soul... a deep breath of cold, crisp air that fills my body with energy to begin again the creation of my life. The treasures of snow in the world are what I need during this advent time... snow treasures for my soul... hope... love... joy... peace... waiting for a miracle.
Hast thou entered into the treasures of the snow? Job 38:22