Saturday, July 10, 2010

History

I have started to read the book "The Postmistress" by Sarah Blake. I'm slowly wading through the pages but the words at the end of Chapter 4 stopped me in my tracks:

"... But here - she sighed - out there and upstairs, there was nothing of hers. She felt for the first time in her life the danger of other people's things - how they might erase her if she weren't careful ..."

I closed the book and wandered through our home. A home filled with permanence, history and a story unto itself.

I don't crave material 'stuff'. Sure, I like to have things that are serviceable for my needs. I buy what we need (and want). I replace that which is broken (and can't be fixed). Our home doesn't look neglected. But when I wander through our home, I can find a little piece of history in every room.

Our kitchen is furnished with a table and chair set that my parents bought before I was born. The table has been refurbished and the chairs have been reupholstered several times. But the original table and chairs are still standing and completely serviceable to this day. Our kitchen also houses a bench that my dad made.

Mom sent many of her belongings along with us as we tried to 'fill a moving van' with enough to start a new life when we moved out here 22 1/2 years ago. She started us off on our new beginning with not only the table and chairs, but a myriad of many other furnishings which are not only serviceable, but hold a memory or a story.

Many of the belongings in our home are old and refurbished. Mom sanded down and refinished a wooden mirror frame; a dresser and a book shelf that we had, before we moved into the house we live in right now. I painted a dresser that my aunt and uncle donated to us when our belongings were scarce.

Pictures of my family and a picture of our farm adorn the china cabinet.

It is the memories, the people and the history of our family that I cherish. Crystal and bone china hold little significance to me. That which is useful, serviceable and holds a piece of history are much finer gifts to hold onto.

As I read the last lines of Chapter 4 of "The Postmistress", something inside of me awoke to the knowledge that I am rich beyond words. I am surrounded by history. Not only in the belongings that a find strewn throughout our home ... but in the memories ... and in the family that I find myself drawn to, more and more each day.

It is my goal to encapsulate a piece of our family's history between the covers of a book. It has been a gift to wander through the country side and collect these most special trinkets of information which each family member holds within.

It is time to organize these memories and put them together so that I can share that gift with the rest of the family.

Shared history and finding a little piece of myself within a family member that I didn't even know brings me such a sense of 'belonging'. I have never felt more grounded than I do right now.

The material belongings that surround me can be taken away. The memories? This feeling inside of me? They are here to stay.

I am building a life on the person that I have become. So much of who I am, is based on 'history'. I am beyond grateful that my history has given me wings to fly. I know that I am blessed.

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