The buffet drawer that holds oodles of aprons was packed; but, I searched till my hand lit on one of the most colorful patchwork patterned, little half aprons that Bessie Grandma had given me. Bessie is The Salesman’s paternal grandmother, alive with Jesus forever, amen. If you’ve been here long, you know that I adore my grandparents, and really enjoy older people in general. Older and wiser folk have always impacted me in such a positive way, and Bessie, was a strong influencer in my life. My grandparents were influencers before influencing was a *thing*. Living in the hills of West Virginia, Bessie led what we’d consider a simple and quiet life. I’ve seen pictures of her wearing a pencil skirt and pumps though by the time I was introduced to her, she was wearing co-ordinated casual wear and “grandma shoes”. There is a story about the shoes and The Salesman; but I am trying not to get sidetracked. She was country and confident and I never ever saw her with ruffled feathers. Her personality in her senior years was as steady as the rock of her pink recliner though in her younger days I just know she bossed people at the dress factory where she worked. Occasionally she would be able to bring scraps of fabric home. Oh the beautiful quilts we have to snuggle with thanks to what Bessie made from scraps. Going to her home was always a treat for me, and it wasn’t because she always had a fresh apple cake on the round kitchen table set on a plastic placemat near her deep orange compote dish. That dish was like an airport pylon signaling the runway to her made-with-love dessert.
I love a good challenge and that is why I was searching for an apron. The challenge was to take a picture wearing an apron with your Young Living order. Why an apron? Well, because this months freebies included a free cutting board and several little bottles of vitality oils to use in cooking and baking. I wondered what Bessie would think of me now standing here in 2020 with her patchwork apron on over these little bottles of vitality oils that I had just started using in my Trim Healthy Test Kitchen. What would she say when I told her that I was buying make up, and personal care products that were toxic-free because I was concerned about what we’d been putting on our skin. I would want to tell her that *Gary Ray* had a second heart blockage and that those boxes and pills pictured, included essential oils in capsule form for him. I would *have* to include that he was willing to take them! That point would be so important because she knows her grandson. Would she think I was an Appalachian medicine doctor? I believe Bessie Grandma would pull from her plethora of old time stories about mountain folk and their natural use of botanicals as remedies long before her blonder-than-she-pays-to-be granddaughter-in-love started using bottles of oils for physical, emotional and spiritual wellness. It seemed that every story of Bessie’s had a beautiful start, it was always “Now Lora…” and then I’d be the recipient of a tale-before-my-time like I’d heard so many times.
I miss hearing her “Now Lora…” stories.
When we lived in our Hallmark worthy home in North Carolina, that had guest rooms, I asked her repeatedly to come stay with us. You know Hallmark filmed two movies while we lived on that historic street – I won’t get sidetracked again; but, I’ve got some good stories to tell! I valued Bessie, I loved her, I wanted to spend time with her; but, it wasn’t until we moved to Tennessee and were in the rental house from the *nether regions* that she decided to come and stay for a while! Short story within the story – The Salesman came here to pick out a place for us to live because SOMEONE did not really want to move here. (Someone was me.) Oh, don’t let me let this story get longer than Sunday afternoon drive; but, I’ll sum it up to say that on the day we pulled up with the moving trucks and saw the place in the broad daylight, The Salesman came up to me and said:
“I will call the real estate lady, Lora. I saw it at night time and it had the square footage we needed.” I wanted to cry and scream at the same time; but I told him that it was temporary and we had all these people ready to move us in, that it would be ok.”
Little did I know, that when Bessie Grandma finally came to stay with us for an extended visit, a commode would greet her on the front porch, and it wasn’t safe for us to walk in the bathroom because the floor would give way, and the carpet… Well, I could go on, and on; but, I think you get the picture – it was more of a scrap piece of fabric and not a Norman Rockwell/Hallmark movie picture. And I was signing The Salesman up for an eye exam, pronto.
Bessie slowly made her way up the steps of the rental house and past the porcelain on the porch to say, “Now Lora, it’s good to see you.” And she laughed and hugged and went on about the children… Maybe she hadn’t seen the commode… Well, we had the best visit in those awful surroundings, it turned out to be a bright spot in a scrap that life had given us. It was the only time in her almost ninety-five years on this earth that she ever was our overnight house guest. She came into our rental home and schooled me in all things country. Never had I seen anyone dice an onion in her hand. Bessie also continued schooling me in quilting, an area my grandmother Ina had first shared with me. We shared laughter and fun and I heard stories and more “Now Lora’s” that just fill my heart to the brim to even think of them.
Our conversation would meander back to these little bottles of oils, to this new way of supporting hope and peace we’ve found in this crazy world. I would tell her how since *Gary Ray* had his recent health scare how I’ve woke up a few times at night around the same time he woke up that morning of his last blockage and said, “It’s time.” I’d tell her how as I’d listen to the sound of his c-pap, I’d review Scripture in my head, grab a bedside copy of the Word and slide it, yes, the whole open Book under my pillow, and then reach for a bottle of lavender and roll it on my forehead and grab *Gary Ray’s* Cedarwood and rub it on my feet to help me fall back to sleep. I would tell her how Gary Ray now has certain oils that he says are his and, I’d pause and smile, and she would nod her head knowingly. I would tell her of the new fangled bed The Salesman bought us a few years back where I can press a button and be in a zero gravity position. I would then pause for her to tell a “Now Lora” story about how they would sleep without a mattress let alone on one that could have you sleeping like an astronaut. We would talk of how blessed we truly are today. I would tell her how I pray more and I sometimes cry about the times we are living in, especially when I see our freedoms eroding and the reality of the book of Revelation becoming so real to me before my eyes. I could weep with her. Bessie had known sorrow and loss. Bessie had known hard times. She was a tough; but tender woman. She had made beauty of out her scraps. We would eventually get back to the Word and The Truth and hope and oils that would help our calm our emotions during this time. I’d feel that for our seemingly short visit, we were Naomi and Ruth. My tears could be dried by one of her fringed white towels with rosebuds on it. What was it with my grandmothers – that both she and Grandma Mavis – though separated by several states, had the same darlin’ rosebud hand towels in their bathrooms!?!
I would tell Bessie that when the Spirit moved me to write this post that I was sitting in my Jesus Room with my feet propped up on an ottoman from my Grandma Mavis as I pecked the keys of a conversation I’d have with her today if she were living here on earth. I am so blessed to know women, and especially women in my family, that had scraps and made something beautiful out of them.
I can just hear her now, her “Now Lora…” about so many things.
In the stillness and in the quiet, I believe she would wholeheartedly approve of me sleeping with the Truth under my head, though she may not understand computers and the world wide web and blogs. She would tell me more stories of how the mountain folk would use natural remedies and herbs and such before drug stores had soda fountains and I can just see her with her chin held high, nodding her head in approval to newfangled ways and tell me that they weren’t really so new. Yes, she’d nod to new days and new ways. She would nod to me taking the scraps of wrongs done to me in my childhood, and life, and making them a beautiful book.
I see the LORD in my grandmothers. I don’t want you to think that they were perfect women; but, I can say, they were perfect for me. I know that every tear I cry before the LORD in missing them, is seen. I know that when as a world, we can feel the *porcelain is on the porch* heaviness, that it is a “Now Lora” time. It is a new time. It is a new day and we are open to new ways. It is time to tell our stories. It is time to hold onto the precious memories of the loved ones of the past like a lovely square in a patchwork quilt; but, march boldly forward taking what gifts we are given, or even the scraps that we might feel we are given, and make a beautiful garment. Oh, Bessie Grandma, as I wear this patchwork apron and stand over this gift of healing oils and products, I want you to know, that God is getting the glory out of a time in my life when I felt like I was a scrap. I just wonder what Bessie would say about these days and times. I am certain there would be a “Now Lora” story. I’d tell Bessie that GOD is writing a “Now Lora” story with the legacy I have from GOD and my family and my love of beauty and writing and speaking Truth and sharing wellness through natural ways. Oh, it is a new day. I’d tell her how I’m thankful that woven into the patchwork of my ancestors are various fabrics and experiences woven beautifully together. That if Bessie can move past scraps like *porcelain on the porch* to make a good visit in not-so-good surroundings, I can too. Wonders never cease Bessie Grandma. God can use hard times and scraps and pandemics to weave together beauty.
Wonders never cease.
Just when you believe you’ve been given a scrap, sew it together with all the other beautiful pieces you’ve been given, and before long, you will have a beautiful garment of praise.
Praise for the good days.
Praise for the not so good days.
Praise for today.
Praise for little drops of oil
Praise for grandmothers that with their time, relationally, they did spoil
They’d sit
We visit and eat
And still, though they are gone
I believe, they are part of a heavenly throng
And like God, witness, in the great cloud
And we can say, out loud
We are making beautiful garments out of our patchwork pieces.
And this Bessie Grandma is my posts thesis:
Beauty out of patchwork pieces.
