Of the many things I procured for the wedding, linens stood at the top of the list.
I have a dresser full of linens, many of them given to me. The linens are demonstrating a strong pushback against my crusade of minimalism. I've thinned them down, but there is a strong tradition in my family of women having dressers full of fabric and table linens.
They came in handy for this event. KT has reams of extra, white fabric we used for covering the serving table. However, we still needed extra tables clothes and napkins to cover the desserts as they arrived.
The white napkins and towels allowed us to keep the natural theme present as we'd put the table together with pine branches, burlap strips and the wood tree rounds.
So today those are getting washed and then I guess ironed. I remember all of this, the linens, the shirts, the ironing.
Some people might wish back to that time when we took more time with what we used for the table. Me, I just remember really smart women who had to find joy in the ongoing, weekly routines involving table clothes and napkins.
For the most part, I want no part of it.
I'm happy with messier lives and linens. I absolutely love textiles but have no interest in a part-time job of maintaining them.
Some of these linens I don't think have been used in 20 years or more. My one grandmother's table cloth is so deeply stained, we were unable to use it after we got to the venue. What to do with it then? It was apparently her one, nice table cloth. If you can't use it for an actual special occasion, why am I keeping it? I washed it in hopes the stains might come out, and they didn't.
So there you go. The dilemma.
I have one I've used for years that was I believe one of my grandmother's. It's been handy for many celebrations: white, long, functional. It washes up well and easily irons or not. That's a keeper.
In some ways, the bevy of linens feels sad. I don't want to use them or store them. They were theirs; I have my own.
I also could use the space.
I definitely picked up my love of textiles from my grandmothers and my mother. As with so many other things, I just need to make it mine, not theirs.
I don't think they'd care, honestly. I know I don't care. When I think of my own kids, I'd want them to keep things they love and would remind them of me, of our family. I'd hope they were things they could actually use. I wouldn't want them to keep things because they felt they had to.
This reminds me a lot of the gap between freedom and actual lived experiences.
I am regularly having to do things and try things that were not modeled for me by the women I grew up around. I have found it confusing and painful at times, almost like I'm invalidating their memories or in the case of my mother, her current life.
That's what the change is about, and how change happens. It's not just the opportunity to change; you have to resist the modeling you have and make new pathways.
All this while sorting linens.
What I've tried to do is spend time with people and honor their lives with my time, with gifts, with remembering events. I can only do that. I can't promise to keep all of their china. I can't promise I'll iron tablecloths or coordinated napkin sets. But I will be there for you, and I hope that's enough.
That's the peace I've made and how I've found my own way. I've jettisoned the guilt, but kept the responsibility.
*****
Speaking of textiles, the laundry continues. What a lot of them we used to pull off this event. Most were either mine or procured by KT from Goodwill. About half done.
*****
We went to another wedding this evening. These friend's daughter was married this evening, and they were all there last week for us as well. The setting was beautiful, up on a hill overlooking the plateau's between Spokane and Deer Park. In the distance, you could see Mt. Spokane where we all were last weekend.
It rained, hard. I've never had to retreat mid-wedding to a tent, but we did it and the ceremony eventually wrapped up once the rain died down. It was a wonderful ceremony with wonderful people.
*****
Our friend with cancer called us as we were leaving. He said he hadn't talked to us yet and wanted to do that. I feel honored that he's staying in touch with us. He has many friends and a large family. He's doing well, butter than the rest of us. He said it's hard for him to see people around him so upset. He said he will fight it, but he's at peace if this is his time.
I am marveling at his calm and acceptance of his situation, something that has literally changed in one week. One week, you're a healthy 50+ year old man; the next you have a scary health diagnosis.
I am glad I am praying, and I'm glad I'm connected to God and spirit the way I am. It is more a presence and less a genie that I feel and understand.
I'm inspired by our friend and hoping and praying this is a season, but not the end of his time with us.
*****
As we drove home this evening across the prairie, I could only marvel that I'm amazed I'm alive. The high, light blue, billowing clouds against the dark sky as the rain abated. The rolling foothills up against mountains. The sun setting. Our ribbon of highway. Nature is regularly a limit experience. I can't contain it or understand it; I can only witness it and embrace it, try and take it in and be grateful I'm an organic creature that is part of it all. The dust and energy and matter in me is what's in the trees, the grasses, the rain and the stars. I'm at home with them. It's not often safe, but it's home.