The Holiness of Sheets--They're Worth the Work

Last week my mother-in-law called and told me she had some

linens for me because I was probably the only one who would want them. She was right--they are beautiful! And I definitely wanted them. They are linen sheets with hand stitched embroidery and tatting which of course require ironing (hence no one else wants them). They belonged to Chris's great grandmother, and I fell in love immediately. 

As we were going through the pile, I was also gifted with napkins and absolutely stunning pillowcases--again hand stitched and embroidered with a "D". These belonged to Aunt Florence--her last name wasn't Doyle--it was Davis, but a D's a D. (Who am I kidding? I would have taken them anyway.) I couldn't wait to get them home so I could wash and iron them--but I had to wait--a week of junior high camp stood between me and my ironing board.

Yesterday was the day! I needed to change our sheets and iron the sheets to put on the bed for our house sitter--to say I was euphoric is an understatement. As I was ironing them I thought about a conversation I had been a part of the evening before during a baby shower. We were talking about family antiques; I was shocked by how many people don't want them, but apparently that is very common. As I was ironing I thought, "I don't get it at all. I love having pieces from both our families. I love sitting at my grandmother's desk and writing letters knowing that is the very desk where she wrote letters to me."

I went upstairs and began making our bed. The pillowcases don't really match our room, but I didn't care. I love them and love they are part of a long line of family I married into. As I was straightening the top cover in bounded the babies ready to spring! How is it they can't hear me ask them to clean up their rooms when I'm shrieking at the top of my lungs, but the minute I begin to put freshly washed and ironed sheets on my bed, they hear the gentle rustle and drop all previously important things and appear in my doorway. And why is it they love to flop on MY bed? While I threatened them with bodily harm or more seriously cutting off finances, I semi successfully hid both a grin and a tear. I secretly enjoy this game we play; I love after the flop when we lie on the bed and just talk--in just a few short weeks my bed will always be perfectly straight (well maybe not always...) and there won't be any bodies to flop or spontaneous conversations. I wondered how many other mothers have put these very sheets on beds with babies underfoot--or towering over them?

And then last night happened...

Let's just say it wasn't pretty. There were tears--lots from me--possibly one or two from Caroline--definite frustration from them both. I was trying to explain how I was feeling--left out, ganged up on, unappreciated, and pulled between 4 children who will be in 4 different states--four children with different needs and expectations--mostly put on me by me. I decided to pout, Chris decided to take a walk, and the babies decided to disappear into their rooms.

I sat there and reluctantly admitted something to myself, I'm floundering; I'm lost because in just a few short weeks my primary job--the one job, as I wrote in my journal this morning, that I was 1/2 way decent at on most days, will drastically change. The truth is in many ways I am ready for that. But somehow in the conversations that happened last night, I "heard" that what I have done for the past 20+ years, what I have thrown my heart and soul into wasn't that important. I heard they were moving on and I would be left out and forgotten. I know, I know--that's not what they said, but it's what it felt like they were saying.

As I climbed into my bed--actually my grandmother's bed and eased down between the freshly ironed sheets of Chris's great grandmother, I thought about the mothers that came before me. I wondered how they felt letting go of their babies. I thought about my grandmother getting down on her knees every night next to this very bed and praying for her family--my beloved Papa Jim, my mother and my aunt and then the many grandchildren, great grandchildren and those who married into our family. I fingered the hemstitching on the pillow cases and thought about the many tears that have probably been shed and woven into the fabric--tears of sorrow and tears of joy--woven into the fabric of the pillow cases and into the fabric of life and love. I thought about the women who have washed, ironed, folded and made beds with these sheets--some had to bury babies long before they weren't babies anymore; some had to let go of their children as they headed off to fight for our country; some could never have children, some had children who struggled well into adulthood and some had children who grew up and brought home their own children.

And I thought about the conversation from the baby shower...

It's really not about the "stuff" we inherit, but for me these things are tangible reminders of the family that came before. They are tangible reminders of the intangible gifts passed down to me--the gifts of love and perseverance and courage and faith. They remind me, as I am also reminded every All Saints Sunday, that I am part of the community of saints--past, present and yet to come--a community that is praying with and for me. A community of which I'm proud to be a part. These sheets have ceased to be just sheets--they have become sacramental objects that remind me of the holiness and grace and love of God passed down from one generation to the next.


Making the bed this morning I again began to think about those who have made up beds with these

sheets before me; I said a prayer of thanksgiving for their lives and for mine. I put the pillows on enveloped in the cases lovingly made by Chris's great aunt and then put the pillows on that I have made in recent years, and I gave thanks that we are connected. I gave thanks for the strength shown through the lives of the women who have come before, and I prayed that I may show that same strength in the days, weeks, months and years to come.

And I would like to publicly say, if you're one of my beloved offspring reading this, please don't ever get rid of these sheets.....