Personal Gifts Rise Above Ailments

by LIZ THOMPSON

When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, I used everything you gave me. 
– Erma Bombeck

"It's the most wonderful time of the year!" We hear Perry Como or Andy Williams sing this song each December.

So often the wonder of what Christmas really means gets lost in the hustle we feel to buy, buy, buy – we'll pay the bills next year – which is less than one week away from December 25.

Personally, I like to make gifts for the special people in my life. The list is long and making a gift for each is not realistic. Threading a needle anymore can be a nightmare, but I can do it.

The fact I have only a small amount of feeling in my right hand and my eyes no longer work in sync doesn't help but it makes every stitch an accomplishment.

People who know me probably know my middle name could be fudge. Not the confection but the action. If it doesn't work one way, I fudge it till it does! When I crochet, I don't use patterns. Therefore, my blankets may come out very long or a little too short. But it's fun for me to make something in the colors I know people like – it is one way to show them I notice.

When I think of the big picture of life and about how my homemade gifts may not be perfect, I think of the poem, "The Weaver" by Grant Colfax Tuller:

My life is but a weaving, between my Lord and me,

I cannot choose the colors, He worketh steadily.

Oftimes He weaveth sorrow, and I in foolish pride,

Forget He sees the upper, and I, the under side.

Not till the loom is silent and the shuttles cease to fly, Shall God unroll the canvas, and explain the reason why.

The dark threads are as needful, in the Weaver's skillful hand,

As the threads of gold and silver, in the pattern He has planned.

Last November, we had just moved to Grove City from out West. On Dec. 1, I had a nasty fall down our basement steps, knocked myself out and broke my right arm. A dark thread in my life but, as a result, my neighbor, Barb Brown, helped me that day when the squad came and later gave me a tea party to meet more neighbors. These same neighbors, and my long time friend, Joan Campbell, brought so many cookies during the Christmas season I had no guilt feelings of not being able to bake.

I did have several "two-armed" projects in the works for Christmas gifts that were put on hold. One of them I am working on for this Christmas.

My right arm will never completely recover because I damaged the rotator cuff, but I am stubborn and keep using it and adapting.

One of my neighbors, Sonja Stauch, brought goodies and a beautiful card last year. I noticed the card was handmade and asked about her art. She refused to call herself an artist. I disagreed and hoped I would learn how to make cards.

It didn't take long until we were friends, popping in from time to time at each other's homes. This year I am making the same design of Christmas card she gave us last year. As Sonja teaches, I goof and learn the hard way. She says, "There's always a way to fix it," with a chuckle.

She makes it look easy but again, due to my multiple sclerosis, my hands and eyes don't always cooperate. One Saturday, I was in her workshop making cards and another woman was wrapping large candy bars. Her wrappings were original and beautiful – me? I love gift bags and tissue paper. We all have our talents.

Hopefully my gifts show my friends and family that they are often an answer to prayer. Giving, selfless, loving, funny and constant – but not perfect and neither am I. No one is perfect except for the person who changed history more than anyone else – Jesus – the reason we celebrate Christmas.

So when you see the not-so-perfect blanket or poorly shaped cookies, please know that I gave it my best shot. The card sends our blessing, the blanket is to warm you and cookies are good no matter the shape.

So are friends and family who make up much of my tapestry of life.

Published in Suburban News Publications
12-13-06

Liz Thompson is a freelance writer and a former SNP reporter.
She lives in Grove City, Ohio with her husband, Bob.

All materials published in MSWorld™ are protected by copyright laws.