Tag: Leta

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Surrender 129: Mother’s Day Legacy

As I’ve celebrated Mother’s Day this weekend, loving on others and being loved on, I have thought about all the strong and influential women in my life. In my journey, I’m in the esteemed position of having generations before me to appreciate, mothers and grandmothers, and generations after me to encourage, children and grandchildren. 

Granny Grace, baby sister Linda, and me. 

Grandma Mildred and me. 

My grandmothers are gone. However, I was blessed to have them both, well into my adult years. These women hugged me and supplied bowls of ice cream and homemade cookies, played games and taught me to sew and crochet. Beyond being fun grandmothers, they modeled for me independence and perseverance, kindness and devotion. I still think of both of them often, as I carry their wise words with me through life’s circumstances. 


I am so grateful for my mom. No one else has had as great an influence on my life as she has. My creative side has been nurtured by her my entire life. And even greater, she has lived her life creatively, writing, gardening, sewing, sketching, owning several businesses, making crafts and DIY projects. She didn’t live this way for my benefit. She lived as her authentic self, pursuing her interests and passions fearlessly, which was the greatest invitation I could ever receive, to do the same. 


Jerri became my stepmom when I was eleven, and she has been a strong influence in my life as well. Although I have never experienced being a step parent, I have welcomed new grandchildren into my family, embracing them as my own flesh and blood. Jerri has modeled blending families together, to create a larger stronger family. Beyond just nurturing my sisters and me, Jerri also embraced my mother. I don’t know if my mom, stepmom and dad realized how incredibly precious the gifts of unity and respect were to me and my sisters. When my friends spoke about the hate and animosity between their divorced parents and new step parents, I felt deep gratitude that in my family the adults lived in a bigger way. I am grateful for Jerri and for her willingness to create and maintain a different kind of family. 


Leta became my mother-in-law, my third mom, when I was 18. She had two sons and she excitedly embraced me as her daughter. Leta was one of the most gracious and generous women I have ever met. She modeled love to me, by way of her actions. She cooked delicious meals and luscious desserts, made crocheted blankets and enjoyed surprising me and later her grandkids with gifts that she spent hours shopping for. She had a child-like sense of wonder about the world that she never lost. However, she was strong, a survivor of losses and illnesses. I am grateful that she taught me that circumstances don’t determine how I live life. She chose to respond to challenges with faith and joy. I choose to follow her example. 

There have been and continue to be many other strong women in my life…aunts, cousins, sisters, friends. We honor and nurture and mother each other. And when I have needed to, I have mothered and nurtured myself. When I faced my fears a few years ago, I was able to nurture the frightened four year old who cowered within me. I am continuing to mother my wee self, and the results have been incredible. 


One of my greatest joys in life is being a mom and Yaya. When I was still a child, I couldn’t wait to grow up and become a mother. I have never taken this role lightly, praying earnestly to be a joyful mother of children, long before my babies arrived. My first pregnancy ended very early in miscarriage, something I didn’t talk about until fairly recently. I named that baby Daniel, making me the mother of four children. I have had the pleasure of raising three…a son and two daughters… and I couldn’t be more proud of the beautiful adults they have become. 

Elissa and her husband Josh. 

Nathanael and his wife Megan. 

Adriel and her fiancé Nate. 

Today, as I reflected on motherhood, I am exceedingly grateful for the experience of parenting and nurturing these children. They have helped me to be a better person. They have encouraged my growth. They cheer me on in all my endeavors. 

As I journey with them and observe their lives, I have seen my older daughter Elissa switch careers, learning new things and stepping up into greater responsibility. She and Josh are so very present for their sons, showing up for events and awards. As Dayan nears the end of high school, I see his mother preparing him for life beyond living at home with his family. 

I have watched my son deal with high stress situations in his career and life, with grace and strength, his wife Megan at his side. They too are involved in the lives of their children. In spite of long hours working, keeping his community safe, Nate takes the time to have lunch at school with each of his kids. 

My younger daughter worked for years to achieve her desired career. She’s very good at what she does, showing great compassion. I watched yesterday as Nate brought their car to a stop, and Adriel hopped out to rescue a turtle who was slowly crossing the street. She carefully placed him in a grassy area, away from the dangerous road. Nate does the same thing often. It’s who they are…caring people. 


Being a Yaya to my five grandchildren has magnified my joy. As a little girl, longing to be a mother someday, I couldn’t imagine anything greater than that. I possibly couldn’t imagine myself being so old that I’d be a grandmother! I have become the person that I so looked forward to spending time with as a child.

I am coming full circle, in my journey, from a girl with powerful women in my life, to the grandmother who desires to show her granddaughter and grandsons how to live a life full of love and joy, creativity and strength. These kids are continuing the task of helping me grow into the kind of person who can live such an open and authentic life. They inspire me. 

Surrounded by such brave hearts…grandmothers who still journey with me in spirit, mothers, and sisters…I can offer with confidence from my own heart to my children and grandchildren. I have a family legacy that I want to pass on. 

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Surrender 102: Stitch in Time

Greg’s mother, Leta, was a creative person. Before Alzheimer’s Disease robbed her of the simple pleasure of creating, she often sat in the evenings, busy with her latest project. She crocheted, and did cross-stitch, needlepoint, embroidery and French knotting. 

 

As I’ve packed up the house in Arkansas, I have found drawers and boxes full of craft kits, yarn of all colors and embroidery thread. These items are a testament to her love of creating.  

Tucked among the patterns and material, there are a few completed pieces, such as the canning jar lid cover pictured above. Mostly I’ve uncovered kits that were never opened. 

 

However, I have found several works in progress, needle work that Leta started and never completed. There’s another canning jar lid cover, snug within a hoop, two grapes and the delicate border completed and the leaf partially so.  

There’s a wonderfully done French knot piece, which may or may not be finished. The needle is still attached. I’m not sure what this was intended to be. Leta usually framed these small works of art and hung them throughout the house. I love the way age has turned the white on white needlework a soft cream color. 

 

At first these abandoned works of creativity made me feel sad. They stirred up feelings of loss and impermanence, of sorrow and time running out. 

I chose to reframe my thoughts. These hand made pieces of art, although incomplete, are just as charming to me as the many completed pillows and afghans, framed needlework and cute pot holders. Incredibly, they still carry Leta’s scent, Estee Lauder Youth Dew. 

I could finish the work. I learned needlework years ago. However, I intend to come up with a creative way to display these interrupted works of art. I may frame them or arrange them in shadow boxes, just as they are, hoops and needles in place, work stopped. 

  

The needlework, on display, will remind me of Leta and that she found joy in creating. They look as if she just laid them down and walked away, intending to return. And that’s good to remember too. Life shifts and changes, and ultimately time runs out here. 

These stitches, arrested in time, remind me of the importance of doing what I love to do, while I can, with great joy. What beautiful works of art. What beautiful lessons to receive. 

  

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Journey 232: My Case for Creativity

After a long day, I enjoyed puttering around in my Creative Space tonight, working further on transforming my office into a sanctuary for writing and reading, drawing and creating. I’ve yet to come up with the perfect name for this new space, but it will come to me at the right time. 

  
This evening my focus was on a vintage cosmetic case, also known as a train case or a vanity case, that I found in the garage at Bob’s house in Arkansas. It belonged to Greg’s mom, I’m sure, but somewhere along the way, Greg’s dad whisked it away to his domain. I was delighted to find it, several months ago, as I’ve seen similar cases in flea markets. It was covered in dust and cobwebs, but I brought it home, knowing I would use it somewhere. 

I’ve always intended for the case to be in my Creative Space, perhaps holding office supplies, or to house a vignette that changed with the seasons. Yet today, as I looked forward to cleaning it up tonight and using it, my intention turned more toward my artsy, creative side. 

  
Opening the case I found an assortment of fishing lures and hooks, and little bottles of suspicious looking murky liquids. Bob did more than move Leta’s cosmetic case to the garage. He turned it into a holding case for his extra fishing supplies…a bonus tackle box! I think his loving wife would have laughed about that and patted him affectionately on the cheek. I removed those items and stored them in a plastic container, to be sorted through later.

  
After a good cleaning, the cosmetic case was ready to become a holding case for supplies of a different sort. My drawing tablet fit within perfectly, turned horizontally. Next my writing journal for this year nestled in. I added two pieces of vintage brown pottery, that belonged to my grandmother, to hold my drawing pencils, sharpener and eraser. A strand of garland, with red and clear beads, wound around the case adds color. And next to the case is one of my favorite inspirational quotes, on a pretty canvas. 

  
The creative case has a new home on the corner of my writing table. In this beautiful space, whether I am working, writing, reading  or daydreaming, the case is easily visible. Greg’s mom used the case to hold cosmetics when she traveled. She used the contents of the case to enhance her beauty. Greg’s dad used the case to hold items meant to attract fish, lure them in. I will incorporate both of those previous uses in its current life. The cosmetic case is an item of beauty. And I desire to attract creative ideas to me, using the journal and art supplies tucked within, fishing for inspiration. I think Bob and Leta would be pleased. 

  

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Day 146: Summer Vignette in Vintage Suitcase

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It may have been raining outside, but inside, I was creating a bit of summer for my first! I have a lovely, slightly battered vintage suitcase. It most likely was an inexpensive purchase. The exterior has heavy cardboard covered with thick, textured paper and metal edging. That paper covering is scratched and rubbed off in several places. The interior is covered in a thin beige and silvery blue paper that has faded to a delicate hue.

I love this suitcase. I like to imagine the journeys it has taken in its many years. It came to me by way of Greg’s family and someday I’ll pass it on to one of our children or grandchildren. For years it has sat in a closet, a container for old family photographs of the Moore Family. Recently I withdrew the suitcase from its hiding place, sorted through the photos and stored them in a plastic bin. I wanted to display the suitcase.

Today, perched atop my dresser in the bedroom, the open suitcase became the backdrop for a summer vignette. I love creating these little slices of life. A table top, a shelf, and now this suitcase, all become blank canvases that welcome my creativity. I get an image in my mind of what I want the completed vignette to look like and then I search for the right items to create that look.

I had purchased summery looking pitchers and containers recently at Michael’s, all on sale. I gathered those, a pile of vintage linens, and an assortment of greenery, a candle wreath, a candle and speckled eggs and laid them all out on the bed. I also had an adorable paper garland that I had purchased at The Fancy Flamingo Flea Market. It is made of old pages from a hymnal. Already, a theme was growing in my mind.

The vignette came together quickly. I love summer whites, so allowing the black suitcase with its faded interior paper to provide most of the color, I selected mostly white pieces and linens. The speckled eggs in the mesh container added additional color along with the greens and yellows of the candle ring. Stepping back, I liked where I was headed….but I needed something else. Then the perfect piece came to mind. I had the painting Greg had bought me at Cooper’s with the wonderful Rumi quote: “Let the beauty of what you love be what you do.” The muted greens, golds and hint of rust worked well with my other items. And the quote seemed so fitting.

Lastly, I dug through the box of old photos, looking for one that I remembered seeing, of Greg’s parents, Bob and Leta Moore, at the beach. Looking oh so young and happy, frolicking in the surf at the beach, this was such a perfect picture to complete the scene. This suitcase came to me through them. The garland with its folded hymnal banners made me think of Leta, who played the piano beautifully every Sunday at church.

Just as the vignette captures a bit of “summer”, so this snapshot captured a moment in the early summer of their lives.  Their fall and winter years must have seemed so far away at that time. I like looking at that picture and seeing their bright, shining faces. Leta journeyed through her fall years and left us far too soon. Bob, at 93, is very much in the winter of his life. He still has that mischievous smile even though he is so weary.  I look forward to showing him a picture of the decorated suitcase. I can already hear him snort as he laughs and mutters something about those young whippersnappers who didn’t know what they were doing. Ah, but they did so many things right, that young couple, not the least of which was to live and love well, and pass on that legacy to their children and grandchildren.

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