It’s the little things that can make all the difference.
A pat on the back
A smile from a friend
The scent of gardenia in the breeze
The sight of something from my childhood
When I feel myself being twisted into knots of stress that
are being pulled ever tighter all it takes is one small thing to make me stop…
Take a deep breath…
Laugh a little…
Let that tear come, if it will.
Recently, a display of sewing supplies at a store drew me in
like a magnet. It was just a small display at a discount store, nothing fancy.
And I certainly didn’t need to buy any sewing supplies since I had all I needed at
home. But I found myself pausing, just for a moment, reaching out to touch the
needles, thread, tape measures, etc….
In an instant my thoughts raced through images of my mother
and all the hours she spent sewing the dresses of my childhood, the colorful
array of thread spools and fabric scraps that cluttered her sewing table when a
project was underway.
It’s just a thimble.
But when I look at it I feel my mother’s love.
I’ve been digging up more buried treasure at my house for my vintage Etsy shop. It
isn’t hard to find as we’ve spent years accumulating things that some people
might call junk. But one man’s junk is another man’s treasure, isn’t it?
Something I’m ready to discard may be that one small thing that reminds another
person of a special time or location, something that will find a place of honor
in their home. A camera or radio like Dad’s or an ad for the car he drove. A
kitchen gadget like Mom used. A game played with brothers and sisters.
Even when there is no personal connection, we stop and look
and acknowledge the history, remembering another time, whether to appreciate all
it was or to remind us of how much better our lives are now.
It gives us perspective.
Sure, it’s just old stuff. But it prompts us to tell our stories,
to remember how we started and how far we’ve come. Just some little token that shows us our place in History, if only for a moment, and reminds us that the
story isn’t over yet.
My story isn’t over yet.
No matter what stress I may struggle with, what
discouragement may hold me back, what heartbreak may wound me, I can be sure of
that.
My story
Is not
over
yet.
One day, this big thing that threatens my dreams may just be
a little something I put on a shelf to give me a little perspective.
I love that picture you posted.The past few years, due to some twists and turns my life has taken, I've had to learn to "travel lightly" through life. Seems like I've been de-cluttering for the longest time!I know as I loosen up some space on the outside, it loosens space on the inside too. Emotions come in that I didn't expect. I have to learn to just feel the feelings.I may be rambling, but reading this blog has resonated with. Thanks so much Donna.
ReplyDeleteI'm like that with book stores; they're like magnets. I don't even need to buy them, sometimes it's just the experience of wandering up the isles in search of something new or old to broaden the horizon. Especially used book stores.
ReplyDelete