==== ☆ ================================================= ☆ No. 2 ===
☆☆ << なにかが見えてくる >>
☆★☆ by Ｍａｔ
- ☆★★☆ ------------------------------------------ 2010/02/03 ☆ --
＊ なにかが見えてくる ＊
** ことわざ **
Bad [Ill] news has wings.
Bad [Ill] news travels fast [quickly].
Ill [Bad] news runs [flies] apace.
** 名 言 **
Blessed are the flexible, for they shall not be bent out of shape.
-- Author Unknown
** 心に響く話 ** (from Chicken Soup Newsletter)
By Cathy Novakovich
It was such an exciting time of the year, for me especially.
Christmas was just around the corner, the signs of which were already
appearing at the malls, and my baby shower was just a week away. Mom
was worried about how many people would actually come, considering
Christmas was so close. She had worked so hard on planning the
perfect baby shower for her first grandchild. She was so tickled, I
laughed just watching her trip all over herself planning it.
She had really hoped I would find out the gender of the baby so she
could have a pink or blue shower, whichever was applicable. She also
wanted to include that tidbit of information within the invitations;
at both of her showers she had received a lot of boy items, and of
course, she had had two girls.
I knew Mom had gone over her budget on the shower, especially with
Christmas right around the corner. I made her promise that she would
not buy a shower gift in addition to all she had done. I was worried
about the money, but I also had another reason. I had not found out
if it would be a boy or a girl, and I wanted Mom to be the one to
pick out the special "coming-home outfit" for my child.
December nineteenth, what a day it had been! I will never forget
that day or that date. I felt like I had been opening presents for
hours, and what wonderful presents I had received. The generosity of
my family and friends overwhelmed me. As I replaced the top of the
box on what I thought was the last gift, I was handed one more. I
hadn't seen that one. Where had it been? It wasn't wrapped with
traditional baby shower paper; it was wrapped with beautiful
Christmas paper adorned with angels singing hymns, the words written
in gold so delicately on the paper. There was no gift tag attached,
but there was a Christmas card. "To my daughter . . . ," it read.
Mom had promised not to buy a shower gift, but I had said nothing
about a Christmas gift! I gave her one of those "I'm going to kill
you" looks, and she just sat there, smugly smiling.
"This one is from my mom," I announced as I opened the gift. Inside
was a quilt. I tried to smile as I held it up for all to see, hoping
Mom couldn't see my face. She would know my smile wasn't genuine;
she could read me like a good book, cover to cover. The quilt was
not very pretty, you see. It was not a "baby quilt." It wasn't made
of pink, blue and yellow materials; it didn't have bunnies or bears.
It was just a patchwork quilt sewn of materials that were of all
different colors and patterns. Holding the quilt up, I noticed a
note tucked in the bottom of the box.
Not realizing the note was intended to be private, I set the quilt
aside, picked up the note and began reading it. Mom had made the
quilt for me. The unmatched materials were remnants of my life she
had saved over the years. She had cut swatches of material from
items dating back to my first Christmas dress and as current as the
shirt I wore to the doctor the day I found out I was finally pregnant.
She had accumulated "patches" of my life for all those years to
make this quilt for my child.
By the time I finished reading Mom's letter telling of the "patch" of
her old robe - I remembered it well; it was fleece and I used to
insist she wear it so I could lay my head on it when she rocked me -
and the "patch" of Dad's flannel shirt I used to put on after my bath,
and each and every other "patch" and its meaning, there was not a
dry eye in the dining room. I picked up the quilt and held it
against me and I cried. To think, just seconds before I had thought
it ugly. It was beautiful. It was the most beautiful quilt I had
ever seen. This quilt was made of my life and with my mother's love.
She had sewn her love into every stitch. To think my mom could sew!
The quilt now hangs on my son's wall. It is a reminder of my life,
my mother's love and the wonderful Christmas present I received at my
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