Friday, February 18, 2011
The first is that Adoptive Families Magazine has chosen "They're All My Own" in their first annual round up of Top Adoption Blogs to be featured in the magazine's upcoming March/April issue. I am honored and thankful to the magazine (which is a great adoption resource) and to everyone who reads my blog and encourages me to keep writing by leaving kind and thoughtful comments.
Remembering. It is true that she died at the age of 90 and if she were living she would be 116. Yet she did visit me in a very real way this week. Gram was actually kind of famous in and around my hometown for the 'clothespin' dolls that she made. They were beautiful, made completely by hand, each one unique. She put a tiny sticker on the hem of each doll's dress with her initials 'MEG'. If Gram knew you and you were getting married she would have made you a bride doll. If you were lucky enough to be her granddaughter, you might get one for a birthday or after getting your wisdom teeth out. She also made them to sell at our church's annual holiday fair. Most of my best friends had one from her and many of the women and girls of our church owned a doll or two. I have a small collection carefully packed away. I haven't thought about Gram's dolls in years.
After a particularly hard day this week, visiting my mother-in-law in the hospital and helping Kurt cope with making some difficult decisions regarding her care, I came home feeling very blue. There was a package at my door. The return address showed it was from one of the dearest friends of my childhood, Lori. Lori and I are a lot alike. We grew up in the same small town. Attended the same small church. Had amazing, warm and caring parents. Our families were close friends. We were both adopted as infants and raised in families with both adopted and biological siblings.
As soon as the tears stopped flowing, I read Lori's letter. She explained that another girl we grew up with (of course we are all women in our forties now) had a collection of the dolls from her childhood. She had donated them to the most recent church Christmas fair. Lori recognized them, did a little research with the church old timers (forgive me Mrs. Damon) realized they were Gram's dolls and bought every single one and sent them to me.
Lori couldn't have surprised me more or had better timing. The comfort of an old friend and a beloved grandmother's handiwork made a sad day much brighter.