Warning: I'm going to get a little personal today.
On my piano sits a picture of Grandma Oram and one of her plates. I never met my grandmother. She died when my father was only seven-years-old. My father always told me I looked like her and because of that he gave me this framed photograph. I will always cherish it as I do the plate. My father gave me the plate also, but much later.
One time when my husband and I drove up to Idaho to visit with my parents they seemed especially excited. It was our wedding anniversary, but my parents never celebrated such things, so I was very perplexed when Mom told me that Dad had something for me. With great pride Dad handed me this plate and told me that it was his mother's. He wanted me to have it for my anniversary. I was very touched and honored.
Both instances happened many years ago. Since then my parents have passed away, so the plate and picture are very special to me.
This last weekend several stressful things were going on. You know how life can get sometimes. It's not just one thing but many little things that pile up and before you know it you're beginning to think you just can't handle everything. But I pushed those feelings aside Monday morning. I wanted to have a nice dinner that night on our deck using the new patio cushions we'd bought over a year ago, but hadn't used yet (that's another story), so I was tying the cushions on the chairs. The morning was a little chilly. I spied my husband's fleece jacket on the back of a chair in the dining room next to the railing.
As you can see, the railing is above the piano. (We have a multi-level house.) A table runner that I didn't see was hanging on the railing and as I pulled Hubby's jacket off the chair it caught on the table runner. The runner fell down on the dish, knocking it off the piano, and breaking it in half. I was heartbroken.
All the little things that had been building up over the weekend came to a head, and I started to cry. Over a plate. My grandmother's plate. That my father had given me.
But then something wonderful happened. I realized how fortunate I had been to have had that plate for so long. What made the plate special wasn't only that it was perfect, but that it was my grandmother's and my father had given it to me. That memory will long be with me unbroken.
And as I looked at the plate in my hands, I knew it could be fixed with just a little glue. I began to think about the other problems I had been dealing with and realized they weren't that bad. I needed to put them in perspective and figure out what I could do. A saying my father told me came to mind, "I don't want to hear about what you can't do, I want to hear about what you can do."
Thanks, Dad. The plate has been glued and once again is on the piano. All is well, at least for the time being.
What experience have you had that made you reassess and realize things were going to be all right?