We’ve talked about this before. How we (crafty people) make things for people and then we never see the thing again. We may never get acknowledged even for making said crafty thing. I wrote about it here in this letter.
As the gift giving season approaches again and we are all hand crafting away for the people we care about I give you this to think about.
Things you’ve knit for people, they may get thrown away.
Things you’ve crocheted for people, they may get given to a neighbor.
Things you’ve quilted, sewn, stamped, beaded, cross stitched, and calligraphied (is that a word?) they may get put in the Goodwill box.
But they may not.
They may be put away in a treasures box and pulled out 24 years later.
This one was. Just this morning.
And memories of our Nan came flooding back. I am yet again inspired and filled with joy for the hand making season.
I love you too Nanny Jean.
So sweet it made me cry. You are so right, we cannot control what happens to the gifts we make and give but when they are loved it makes it all worthwhile.
How wonderful… and sweet… and sad all at the same time. Just like the holidays are.
I sometimes wonder what happened to the crocheted bear that I made in 1981 for a college guy I had a crush on. (We were pals and went on a couple of dates.) I hid the love note inside the bear’s neck though – it was less obvious.
Thanks for sharing such a wonderful gift – and your Nanny Jean. She has a wonderful legacy in you.
Sweet memory, thanks for sharing!
It’s the reason we do what we do. If the mitts I make for my Mom so far away in Arizona help keep her sore hands warmer and in less pain just once, its worth all the time I spent making them. If the things we make, make the people we love smile – it’s worth every minute.
What we are making is not a hat or mittens or a sweater, it’s a hug from me to you because I wanted you to have one. And if it’s hug that gets pulled out 24 years later – all the better, because you will still know that I did it because I cared enough about you to do it in the first place.
Thanks for the reminder!
Sometimes the things we make wind up in the hands of others who appreciate it more than the intended recipient. I have one such item, a cross stitched poem about mothers. This beautiful item was framed and donated for a benefit. I was the lucky winner who placed it in my bedroom it perfectly accented. I point out to others all the time that fate brought it to someone who would appreciate and cherish the work put into it.
Well said. My grandfather was a carpenter and made my toddler bed. When I outgrew it my mom sold it in a garage sale but regretted it almost immediately afterwards. The man who bought it returned the next day to tell my mom how much his daughter loved her new bed. My mom said it made her feel so much better to know a little girl somewhere got so much joy out of what her father had made with his own two hands.
I made a doll like this and it was lost in a sea of graduation gifts. “Where ever you go, what ever you do, always remember that I love you.” was embroidered on the skirt. That was almost 30 years ago. It turned up in a box of toys (TOYS?? of all things) and my sister in law didn’t know where it came from but couldn’t part with it because it was beautifully hand made. I told her that I had given it to her. She was horrified that she almost gave it away, but couldn’t (for some unknown reason). It now more cherished than ever, in a safe displayed place.
Thank you Anne for sharing.
To all of you who have made something for someone and wonder what happened to it, please read this children’s chapter book yourself or share with your child or grandchild, the Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Kate DiCamillo. I promise you it’s not just a kids book, but do share it with a kiddo you will both love it
You’ve inspired me to pick up my tatting shuttle and make some snowflakes.
Two people I’ve reconnected with after many years have told me they still hang the ‘art’ wall hanging and Christmas ornament I made for them when they graduated from college (47 years ago) and worked with (about 40 years ago). Then there’s the baby outfit my mother knitted for me that I wore home from the hospital 70 years ago and then my two daughters 39 and 35 years ago.