I never married.
Last week I made a flower arrangement.
I gathered materials from both the craft store and my own yard, and assembled everything in an afternoon.
It is simple and yet commanding in its presence, which happens to currently be in my bathroom.
It is beautifully over a hundred dollars cheaper than anything I could have purchased.
Today I made an apron.
I used three different bolts of fabric and my mother-in-law's sewing supplies, most of which I'd never utilized before.
It is comprised of eleven different pieces that I created, start to finish, without a pattern.
It is, in my opinion, absolutely adorable, and about half the cost to make than to buy.
But while these things are the source of my current feeling of accomplishment, they are not directly the source of my pride.
While finishing the last ruffle on my apron, and reflecting on the fact that this was my second successfully completed project in areas I'd never attempted before, I realized my grandfather would have been proud of me. Not just my domesticity or my frugality, but the philosophy behind my actions.
You see, he was a brilliant man, and excelled at just about everything he did, whether it was business, art, carpentry or sports. His best quality, I think, was his ability to give people advice. I have dozens of relatives that became successful because of the things he said to them. His wisdom, hand crafted over years of hard work and experience, was unmatched by anyone else I've ever come to know.
His favorite motto was, 'Stick your neck out.' A turtle could stay safe as long as it hid within its shell, but it would never be able to go anywhere until it took a risk and stepped outside its little world. I know this better than most, since I generally have a hard time even leaving the house, let alone trying to accomplish anything. His point, though, was that all things worth accomplishing involve at least a little bit of risk, and we're always benefitted by taking it, even if it's simply to say, 'Okay, I know not to try that again.' The only thing worse than failure, in his book, was never trying to succeed in the first place.
The other motto he carried very close to his heart was a bit more generic, but no less true: You can do anything you set your mind to. He was a firm believer that progress stemmed from appreciating things for what they were, but then asking yourself, 'How can I make this better?' He didn't limit this to just technology or science; he meant every aspect of a person's life should be both apreciated and questioned, from how one butter's their toast in the morning, to how they spend their free time. This is the main thing I've been focusing on; seeing something, liking it, and then making my own from its inspiration. I know it's not much, just fake foliage and cloth, but I think that was his point in saying one should question everything.
It's days like this I wish he was still here so I could tell him that I understand, that I've learned from him and I'm steadily expanding my horizons and becoming a better person because of the words he shared with me so long ago. I hope someday I can tell my gandchildren these words, and pass on his legacy, just as it was passed to me.
~