The Smallest Gift

I finished this Mug Rug yesterday and even hand quilted it, which was difficult because its too small to fit in one of my smallest frames.

Like my other projects, as I worked, I held the thoughts of the person receiving it on her birthday next week, who is my last maternal Auntie alive.

I've spent considerable time this last year asking and researching my maternal heritage. There have been a number of people in my family who worked with various fabric arts. But more, what I find is a lineage of strong women who lived in an era where they did what was expected, kept a lot of secrets and once they were married, did not cling to a sisterhood or even understand what one would look like. The patterns I see when I look back exist in me either to heal any dysfunctions or to continue a courageous behavior.

Both widowed now for several years, this particular Auntie visits my Mother regularly. Mother lives in residential care nearby, so Auntie can drive there without too much effort. They are only three years apart, and as they have aged almost are like grrrlhood chums again. This is the time to glean from their memories because they are upfront in their own consciousness.

I think about the smallest acts we do are like making this small Mug Rug. Or visiting someone in a nursing home, or greeting the new neighbor.

Its as though any small acts on our part either enrich us or diminish who we are. No matter how quietly or privately we do something, it transforms us and becomes a part of who we are, how we think, and how we feel and how we are becoming whole and greater.

Today, I am basting a flannel quilt I am making my younger Son. It should be cozy in those chilly Minnesota evenings. There are two still WIPs, or works in progress that will also go out very soon.