A Shattered Treasure
Today, while I was making fresh bouquets of flowers (and weeds--as Chuck calls the Queen Anne's Lace that I love to pick from along the side of the college golf course), I broke the etched crystal vase I had bought for my mother in Scotland during my 1966 trip with my grandma and Aunt Ruth. I wasn't the easiest daughter to mother that year (as my dad and oldest brother may remember) and she had stuck with me through this tough time. The gift of the trip itself is witness to that. In any case, I have always loved this beautiful vase with its thistle motif, and I had asked to bring it home with me after her death two years ago. I am not sure what happened, as if often the case in accidents, but somehow my flower cutters brushed up against it, and it broke on the counter as it fell.
I have other beloved vases--two tiny ones in which I put miniature arrangements that she had given me, an intricately painted fine-china vase Jenny brought to me from her trip to Hungary with the Blue Lake band in 1990, a Bavarian crystal stem vase Ellen brought from one of her many European trips, another pitcher/vase with an unusual bird motif painted on it (but which is cracked because I dropped it after bringing it home from a dear friend's house...but I can put a plastic glass inside to hold the water and flowers), an Italian vase we gave Karen but keep here, a copper Bosnian vase, one Julie gave me from a local potter, and a large country-style chipped pitcher/vase that was Chuck's mom's in which I keep dried hydrangeas. I do love all my vases and feel that they are better used than sitting safely in a cupboard. But as you can see, they are valuable not only for their own beauty but for their giver or occasion of receipt. Now I won't have this immediate visual reminder of my mom (unless I can find someone to sand off the shards and leave me with the intact base--any suggestions?).
And so I cried a bit and read Ps.16, which I had quoted at her memorial service. "Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; you have made my lot secure. The boundary lines have falled for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance."
I have other beloved vases--two tiny ones in which I put miniature arrangements that she had given me, an intricately painted fine-china vase Jenny brought to me from her trip to Hungary with the Blue Lake band in 1990, a Bavarian crystal stem vase Ellen brought from one of her many European trips, another pitcher/vase with an unusual bird motif painted on it (but which is cracked because I dropped it after bringing it home from a dear friend's house...but I can put a plastic glass inside to hold the water and flowers), an Italian vase we gave Karen but keep here, a copper Bosnian vase, one Julie gave me from a local potter, and a large country-style chipped pitcher/vase that was Chuck's mom's in which I keep dried hydrangeas. I do love all my vases and feel that they are better used than sitting safely in a cupboard. But as you can see, they are valuable not only for their own beauty but for their giver or occasion of receipt. Now I won't have this immediate visual reminder of my mom (unless I can find someone to sand off the shards and leave me with the intact base--any suggestions?).
And so I cried a bit and read Ps.16, which I had quoted at her memorial service. "Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; you have made my lot secure. The boundary lines have falled for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance."
posted by Barb @ 12:33 PM
3 Comments:
At 10:50 PM,
Anonymous said…
Shattered to me means beyond repair. Is it even possible to put back together again? Such a treasure would be worth it. Perhaps your pottery friend knows of someone.
At 11:33 PM,
Bruce S said…
And from the same memorial service and elsewhere there is always the: "Do not become too deeply attached to the things of this world which perish . . . ."
At 7:23 AM,
Anonymous said…
The longish part that holds the water is shattered beyond repair but the stout (thistle-illusioned) base is intact. My small group church friends suggested I take it to Wooster Glass and see what they can do. Later...after CA. As for attachments...yes, I know. But that doesn't mean I can't mourn a bit. I do remember Kenneth Pike (of Wycliffe fame and a UM prof)'s wife talking about a similar event in their lives when a guest broke something precioius. Funny how so much goes but a few important words stay.
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