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The Beauty of Handmade Things

I stayed up late last night working on something that isn't going as quickly and smoothly as I'd like.  When I'm tired, I get frustrated.  And when I'm frustrated with something, I want to just throw it all in a bag and forget it. Especially if I accidentally burn myself.

  But I looked at these pictures again.  I took pictures of my daughter on a beautiful spring evening a few weeks ago.  I dressed her in this beautiful pink dress.  At least 3 people stopped to tell me how pretty she looked in it.  I thanked them each time and told them that my Mamaw had made it.  But she didn't make it for my daughter.  She made it for me when I was around the age my 'baby' is now.  My mom had kept it all this time, and then I kept it for my little girl.

  And when she outgrows it, it can go to some future niece.  If my daughter has a daughter, she can wear it.  As much as I love this dress, I may someday take pictures of my grandson in it. 

I love handmade things.  I love their unique look.  I love the personal meaning they often hold.  I even love the special care they sometimes require.

After I looked through the pictures again, I decided to put away what I was working on.  It's all carefully organized and my plans are in place.  Numbers have been crunched, items have been measured, and the whole mess will be dragged out again as soon as I have time and space and mental energy.  I'm not giving up.  I'm just not going to try to make something in one night.  I'm going to work on this as I can.  I want to make things, but I also want to make them well. 

I have no delusions of grandeur that anything I make will be on the same level as this dress, but I can hope that I can give people I love things that they use, and cherish, and save for people they love.

I just love handmade things.

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