I missed it! The first Five Minute Friday of 2013 and I forgot. Can I have a Five Minute Early-Hours-Of-Tuesday instead?
Cherished
There's a story in our family folklore that goes like this. When I was little, about five or so, I was walking holding hands with Nana - my paternal grandmother. She wore a ring, a ruby set in diamonds, a sparkly ring that had caught my eye.
"Nana, when you die can I have your ring?"
Precocious child wasn't I? There's a whole prodigal son parable waiting to happen right there!
Thankfully my Nana was more gracious than that. I have no recollection of the story happening, although I've heard it so many times that I'm starting to believe I remember it. From what I know of Nana I'd be very surprised if she didn't laugh at that moment. Probably quite a lot.
Nana had three sons, who in turn delivered four grandchildren; my two male cousins, my brother and I. Here she is with her first grandson, my cousin Simon. So as the first female for three generations, I was cherished. That's not to say she didn't love and cherish the boys too, of course she did. But I have memories of a very special relationship with her as I was growing up.
She died when I was 14, very unexpectedly. And in her will, also unexpectedly, she left me her jewellery. All of it, including that sparkly ring.
What an honour - Nana loved her jewellery and much of it tells her story. A delicate maple leaf necklace from her time spent in Canada. A Maltese cross, also from her travels. A gold sovereign that Grandad had set into a pendant for her. A locket with cherished photographs in it. A charm-bracelet so laden with charms that it's too heavy to wear, but each one of those in turn tells its own story, many of them stories I wish I knew.
I've enjoyed looking through those items many times. Cherished pieces of memory, reminders of a cherished relationship with her. I'm considering selling some of the pieces to buy one simple thing that I could wear to remind me of her. But there's much to think about before then.
But I love the way they remind me of her. Of the things we did together, the ridiculous jumpers she knitted (it wasn't really her best skill!), the white plastic donkey flower pot holder in the garden, the holidays at her house in Wales where there was a JCB at the end of the street. Cherished memories of a Nana who cherished me.
And a tiny hint of how much more we all are cherished by God. How I wish I understood that!
Cherished
There's a story in our family folklore that goes like this. When I was little, about five or so, I was walking holding hands with Nana - my paternal grandmother. She wore a ring, a ruby set in diamonds, a sparkly ring that had caught my eye.
"Nana, when you die can I have your ring?"
Precocious child wasn't I? There's a whole prodigal son parable waiting to happen right there!
Thankfully my Nana was more gracious than that. I have no recollection of the story happening, although I've heard it so many times that I'm starting to believe I remember it. From what I know of Nana I'd be very surprised if she didn't laugh at that moment. Probably quite a lot.
She died when I was 14, very unexpectedly. And in her will, also unexpectedly, she left me her jewellery. All of it, including that sparkly ring.
What an honour - Nana loved her jewellery and much of it tells her story. A delicate maple leaf necklace from her time spent in Canada. A Maltese cross, also from her travels. A gold sovereign that Grandad had set into a pendant for her. A locket with cherished photographs in it. A charm-bracelet so laden with charms that it's too heavy to wear, but each one of those in turn tells its own story, many of them stories I wish I knew.
I've enjoyed looking through those items many times. Cherished pieces of memory, reminders of a cherished relationship with her. I'm considering selling some of the pieces to buy one simple thing that I could wear to remind me of her. But there's much to think about before then.
But I love the way they remind me of her. Of the things we did together, the ridiculous jumpers she knitted (it wasn't really her best skill!), the white plastic donkey flower pot holder in the garden, the holidays at her house in Wales where there was a JCB at the end of the street. Cherished memories of a Nana who cherished me.
And a tiny hint of how much more we all are cherished by God. How I wish I understood that!
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Hi Rach,
ReplyDeleteLove you post, beautiful memories of your Nana. My husband and I often say we pray our grandbabies have beautiful memories of us ... we're trying to make those memories now ... CHERISHED!
God bless,
What a sweet story. (Told by a fabulous story-teller, I might add.) I love heirlooms that actually bring up memories. Thanks for sharing yours. :)
ReplyDelete(Stopping by from Five Minute Friday.)
I missed it too! I love this story- I adore hearing of anyone's childhood memories and of family reminiscences. I said something similar to my Nan about a Chicken jug. She remembered and I still have it!
ReplyDeleteYes, I wish I could understand just how much God loves us but he does everything so much better and on a great-scale than anything I can fathom- I can only be grateful!
x
Love it! My grandmother had a maple leaf from her trip to Canada, too. Isn't it wonderful how lingering over these things can bring back such wonderful memories?
ReplyDelete