Soak

Recently my grandmother gave me a tablecloth that she made some years ago.  It is lovely with patches of lace and delicate hand-stitched flowers - glimpses of her talent that I will always treasure.  Pinned to the corner of the tablecloth written in her heavy, curling cursive was the “recipe” for her famous “Soak”.  She explained that there were a few stains on the tablecloth; the soak would “remove any stains and yellowing that you don’t want but will be kind to the color”.  That same soak has permeated so many significant memories of my adult life . . . she mixed it to remove the yellowing from my mother’s wedding dress before we cut the lace to fashion the pillow that would carry our rings at my wedding; years later it delicately whitened my grandfather’s fragile gown as I prepared to bring my new babies home from the hospital wearing it; Cooper’s raw silk Easter jon-jon would soak in it following a particularly horrendous carseat “blow out”, and, thanks to the soak,  Grace’s flower girl dress from K.K.’s wedding would let go of the stains that were evidence of the big time she had at the reception.  I hung the tablecloth in my linen closet with the recipe still attached.  In the days that followed the idea of “soaking” would dance repeatedly at the edge of my consciousness, whispering the thoughts that I would ultimately share with you here in this little space of mine. 

. . . “will remove any stains and yellowing that you don’t want but will be kind to the color” . . . Growing up soaking was often my mother’s answer to cure what ailed us.  Cramps – soak in a hot bath.   Itchy mosquito bites or rashes – soak in a warm baking soda bath.  Irritable teenage girl drama – soak until your fingers prune so that I don’t have to be around you for a little while.  Reflecting, I spent a good portion of my teenage years in the bathtub – thinking and reading and reaching up with my toe to turn the hot water on again when I started to catch a chill.  I soaked – removing the stains and yellowing that I didn’t want but being kind to the color.  It worked – things always seemed a little better after a nice, long soak. 

I have no doubt that Grandmother intended no hidden meaning or grand revelation when she pinned that recipe to the tablecloth, but despite her lack of intention, I managed to find meaning there.  In the days since that tablecloth came to live in our home I’ve made a concerted effort to “soak”.  Spring, I find, is a wonderful opportunity for soaking – to sit back and quietly take it all in as the gray of winter fades into the Crayola box that is spring – my favorite season. 

I’ve soaked in all the changes that our family has experienced in the months since Christmas – removing the stains and yellowing that were the fears and hurts that came with the move and being kind to the color that has found us crazy blessed each step of the way. 

 

I’ve soaked in the fact that Grace will start middle school in the fall and that she grows more gorgeous and independent with each passing day – removing the stains and yellowing that is my hurt at watching my baby grow up so quickly and being kind to the color of all the possibilities that her amazing future holds. 

 

I’ve soaked in Cooper’s big, beautiful heart as he prepared and received his 1^st Communion – removing the stains and yellowing that were our heartbreak at leaving Sacred Heart and being kind to the color that is our new parish family here at St. Brigid. 

 

 

I’ve soaked in the family and friends who have traveled to visit us in our new home. 

 

 

I’ve soaked in the beauty of our first Atlanta spring and the fact that it is becoming more and more natural to refer to this place we live as “home”. 

 

I’ve soaked in the sore muscles and sometimes utter exhaustion as projects were started and completed because those were signs that I am healthy and able to work on this house that God blessed us with.  I’ve soaked in my husband who provides for us so completely.   

 

Soak after soak the stains and yellowing of the past few months faded as I was kind to the color of every beautiful thread of this crazy blessed life of mine. 

It’s so important, soaking.  Just taking some time to take it all in – to quietly reflect – to reconcile heart with mind - to remove the stains and yellowing that you don’t want while being kind to the color.  Cooper’s 1^st Communion Mass was beautiful – we sang “This Little Light of Mine” & “This is the Day” . . . Let it shine, my people!  Rejoice and be glad!  Soak, sweet friends of mine, soak!

 

being kind to the color,

amy