Needlework
From the time I was in first or second grade I have had a textile art activity in my hand of some sort. Whether it was sewing something on the sewing machine, crocheting, knitting, crewel, needlepoint, counted or stamped x-stitch, quilting, my hands have rarely been idle at home.
I often ask myself why it is so important to me and I'm not sure I know all the answer(s). I think it is mostly centered in leaving something behind--a kind of legacy long after I'm gone. When I go to needlework shows, there are usually displays of antique needlework pieces. I find myself wondering about the life of the person who made it; were they happy? Does the choice of design tell anything about them? Why did she (I can use the choice of "she" without bias because it was so rare to have needlework done by a man in years past) make this particular piece? Were they hoping someone would keep their piece and cherish it long after they were gone? Who knows? As I look at the pieces I have made over the years, I can't help but notice how my taste has changed. I don't get rid of any of them but I wouldn't necessarily do this piece today that I loved doing years ago. Also, I catch myself wondering who in my family will want the many pieces I have done. I have several pieces marked with who I want that piece to go to but I know very well that once I'm gone, everything is up for grabs.
I think the bottom line is that I believe all of us want to feel like we have mattered; that there was a purpose we were on earth and that our life wasn't in vain. For some of us, that's not an issue. I have serious doubts that Mother Teresa worried whether or not her life made a difference. For the rest of us, I think we all wonder. What legacy do I leave for those who come after me? Maybe it's my needlework--pieces of beauty and art lovingly worked. Maybe it will be the pieces I gave away.
I often ask myself why it is so important to me and I'm not sure I know all the answer(s). I think it is mostly centered in leaving something behind--a kind of legacy long after I'm gone. When I go to needlework shows, there are usually displays of antique needlework pieces. I find myself wondering about the life of the person who made it; were they happy? Does the choice of design tell anything about them? Why did she (I can use the choice of "she" without bias because it was so rare to have needlework done by a man in years past) make this particular piece? Were they hoping someone would keep their piece and cherish it long after they were gone? Who knows? As I look at the pieces I have made over the years, I can't help but notice how my taste has changed. I don't get rid of any of them but I wouldn't necessarily do this piece today that I loved doing years ago. Also, I catch myself wondering who in my family will want the many pieces I have done. I have several pieces marked with who I want that piece to go to but I know very well that once I'm gone, everything is up for grabs.
I think the bottom line is that I believe all of us want to feel like we have mattered; that there was a purpose we were on earth and that our life wasn't in vain. For some of us, that's not an issue. I have serious doubts that Mother Teresa worried whether or not her life made a difference. For the rest of us, I think we all wonder. What legacy do I leave for those who come after me? Maybe it's my needlework--pieces of beauty and art lovingly worked. Maybe it will be the pieces I gave away.
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