“Take your needle, my child, and work at your pattern; it will come out a rose by and by. Life is like that – one stitch at a time taken patiently and the pattern will come out all right like the embroidery.” — Oliver Wendell Holmes
Friends and family gathered last week to pay final respects to Wilma. A daughter, sister, mother, grandmother, and friend. We remembered her life, her friendship, and her dedication to her family, community and church.
This summer I had the opportunity to spend time with her daughter Sadie, offering an ear, conversation, and an occasional extra hand, sorting through a lifetime of belongings in Wilma’s home. A bittersweet task for Sadie, I am glad to have been able to help, and to have had a private peek into Wilma’s life.
Wilma’s historic home has always been charming to me. The home was built by migrant workers with available pieces of wood. The bowed lines of the house are perfect in my eyes, and the poem “There was a crooked man” certainly comes to mind:
There was a crooked man and he walked a crooked mile, He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile.
He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse. And they all lived together in a little crooked house.
In addition to living a full life, Wilma was a quilter in the church quilting group and in the quiet of her home, and passed this passion on to Sadie. Like every crafter and quilter, Wilma collected and saved bits and pieces and yards of fabrics, ribbons, buttons, and snaps, as well as magazines full of ideas. After the yard sales, and when there was not room for one more box or bag of craft supplies in Sadie’s home, some of Wilma’s collection was offered to me. I happily took several boxes. These bits of her fabrics have a purpose that is still undetermined, but I do plan to create a quilt in her memory. I am not a quilter, but this piece will be made with a warm and happy heart.
I will remember Wilma as a mainstay in our church, and look at the pew in which she sat and think of her with a smile.