Lessons learned from the blue sitting room.
A few years ago, I had the distinct privilege of visiting Stirling Castle in Scotland. Those of us who aren't scholars of Scottish history will probably recognize one Hollywood adaptation - Braveheart.
Stirling Castle was home to James V, in the 1540s, and his more well-known daughter, Mary, Queen of Scots. A short walk down a path from the castle's grand hall, they offered a glimpse into one of the most sacred aspects of historic preservation - The Tapestry Workshop. Unfortunately, photography was prohibited in this area as it would distract these artisans who were recreating history via tiny intricate threads.
A group of handcrafters (with the help of historical records) set out to recreate seven distinct tapestries that once hung in Stirling and told the history of the unicorn, Scotland's national (and much revered) animal. It took them 14 years to complete seven pieces! Here's a link from the BBC when they finished their work. Click here.
If you've ever seen a tapestry, you realize the two sides are so incredibly different. The gorgeous and picturesque scene on the front is juxtaposed against a back that is chaotic and disorderly.
Standing in the Tapestry Workshop, I began thinking of all of the people who had generously donated their time, love, and talents to me, weaving in indelible learning experiences. Naturally, I thought about my parents and my incredible grandfather you read about earlier. But along the twisty-turns of my life's path, there have been aunts and uncles, teachers, friends, and mentors. I am the person I am because of each of those tiny threads they took the time to stitch, not knowing how the tapestry would turn out later. They were committed to the long-term project of creating one unique Christy.
My mind wandered watching the artisans hunched on tiny stools, working on patches no bigger than a post-it note. And I started thinking about my Mom #2. Carolyn Howard Frazier Stacey was the first person I ever met that had more than one middle name. She was a devoted daughter and mother. She was a college-educated mother who worked full-time, but still made her home inviting for friends and neighbors. She taught Sunday School but enjoyed a bourbon crème brûlée when the mood struck her. She was always so stylish, gracious, warm, and engaging. She defied convention in everything she did.
Laura and I grew up in this incredible tapestry-centric life she created. On one side was decorum and civility, Downton Abbey way before we knew what upstairs life was like. On the other side was the messy existence that is childhood, like being allowed to eat spaghetti on the coffee table in front of the TV and watching Mary Poppins. It was a childhood filled with books, Michael Jackson on MTV, and homemade dinners served occasionally on china.
When we sat on the sofa in her blue sitting room, we were ladies in training. Despite the perpetual Kool-aid mustaches, the conversation was civilized, and manners and proper grammar were required. She was grooming us for a time when we would be the proper ladies of our own homes.
Mom #2 created this magical world where we could do and be anything. She took us to Christian retreats and water parks. We celebrated New Year's Eve with sparkling cider served in elegant crystal stemware but dined on popcorn straight out of the bag. When I was disappointed I couldn't attend a youth group trip my senior year of high school as I had the lead role in a theater production, she sent me roses with a note simply stating, "Break a leg, so proud of you. Love, Mom#2." I still have that note, but more importantly, I cherish all of those precious life lessons she weaved into me.
She was generous with her home, her time, and her praise. She never stopped teaching me, even into my 30s. Any major life decision I made, she had input. I valued her insight, but more importantly, I wanted to remind her that for me, those lessons in the blue sitting room would never end.
When the time came for my own wedding, I consulted the queen of etiquette and gentility on nearly every decision. As the week of our big day approached, I opened a gift box from Mom #2 filled with Waterford crystal, each of which I have displayed, as I am now the proper lady of my home. On the day of our wedding, I was sure to have a mother's corsage for her and as one of the most gifted teachers and speakers I know, I asked her to read a poem. Her choice was the only thing that brought me to tears on the altar.
Sometimes, I break out the china for guests, despite the menu being spaghetti. Whenever someone compliments me on one of my vintage Etienne Aigner clutches, I thank them and tell them it was my Mom #2's. I only write thank you notes on personalized stationery. Some lessons stick with you for life, even if the person stops contributing to your tapestry.
When Laura, her daughter Allysa, and I lost her several years ago, we found that some losses leave a hole in your heart that simply can't be stitched back together, but you can take those broken threads to create something new.
In the last two years, I become more and more appreciative of those times I spent at the Stacey home on Pine Street.
My husband and I have been hosting a Bible study group since we moved to Elizabethtown, and I find myself become more like a Mom #2 to some insanely beautiful and talented kids we've met along the way. Last year we had 14 kids in our group. We've invested in a lot of thread!
Our dear friends J.D. and Kara have three kiddos who we've instructed that our home is their home, but with fewer rules. When Kara had to go out of town unexpectedly last week, she asked me if it was possible if the kids could have a sleepover on Friday night.
I never hesitated. These kids now call me Mom #2, which makes me weep like a soap opera character when they're not looking. This past Mother's Day, they got me a new clutch and wrote me personalized notes. Thanks for the big ugly tears, guys.
On Thursday, I texted Nalani (the oldest at 12 and the artist of the family) to give me a shopping list of their favorite snacks, foods, drinks, and treats. I spent time freshening up the guest linens and cleaning our house for three of our favorite guests.
When her list was woefully short on the spoil factor, we headed straight to Sam's Club on Friday afternoon for whatever sugary treats their hearts desired. "Mom NEVER lets us in this aisle!" Naomi (the athletic 11-year-old and middle child) exclaimed.
And I found out an important lesson that day - being a Mom #2 means you don't have to worry about dental bills. This was even more ironic when we later discovered that Noah (the youngest who will be 10 this month) hadn't packed a toothbrush for his overnight camp out at Casa Fuller.
Nalani has recently launched an art project- Nalani Gives Praise that I find both fascinating and inspiring. On Fridays, she places a free inspirational piece of art somewhere in our community with the intent of not only giving praise to God but sharing love and art with someone at the right moment.
How her heart conceived of such a need is just awe-inspiring. We placed her piece outside of our local coffee shop, and within 30 minutes, someone sent her message that it was exactly what they needed on a tough day. I don't think I'm going to have to invest much needlework into this beautiful soul.
Over the next 24 hours, we watched movies and hung out. One of those movies was the incredibly painful Descendants 3. Oh Disney, how could you! I made colorful commentary on everything from the acting to the unrealistic plot (who gets engaged in high school, really?). But then I had a little reminder from Mom #2 about being a gracious hostess. All those years of watching Dick Van Dyke's dreadful cockney accent and I never once heard Mom #2 make a disparaging remark. She let us enjoy what we wanted with no complaints. And I realized I needed to rip out and resew a few of my own Mom #2 stitches.
By that evening, the cat had come to terms with our tiny house guests, even allowing Naomi to pet her for a split second. There were no incidents of hissing or scratches. I think she accepted that we love these kids as much as we love her.
As we readied for bed, it struck me how blessed we are to have these precious souls in our lives. I resisted the urge to kiss them all goodnight, not only because that's gross and embarrassing to pre-teens, but mainly because of Noah's aforementioned missing toothbrush. There are some boundaries even Mom #2s aren't willing to cross.
That morning, I arose bright and early to fix the kids breakfast. When I came downstairs, I found that Noah had forgone sleeping on the cushy air mattress in favor of our living room rug, which according to him, is the greatest thing ever created. Anytime he visits, he does snow angels on that rug. I paused and was concerned for his little joints, but remembered kids are like Play-Doh at that age, flexible and quick to recover.
Over bowls of Cap'n Crunch and warm cinnamon rolls fresh from the oven, I asked the kids what they wanted to do that day.
In my mind, I was mentally preparing for a blistering hot day at the go-kart track or another movie.
"Let's just stay here and hang," Noah insisted. So we did.
Mid-way through Brian's morning cup of coffee, Nalani channeled her inner Real World housemate and stopped being polite and started getting real.
"You put too much sugar in your coffee," she chided to Brian. (Truth be known, I may have also made a comment about it first).
He took a big sip, pondering the ultimate comeback. "I love sweet things," he paused dramatically. "That's why I love all of you."
All of the girls sighed in admiration for his smooth moves. He looked immediately at Noah, cozily sharing his leather armchair and asked, "See what I did there?"
Noah, engrossed in his iPad looked at him curiously, "No, what did you do?" And we all laughed. Some stitches need to be sewn methodically and with care.
Mid-way through our afternoon together, I found Nalani and Naomi sitting at the bar and drawing. When I peered closer, I noticed the floor plan for a house. Curious, I asked if they were redecorating their rooms or just having fun daydreaming about future HGTV projects.
"No, it's the layout for the tiny home we're going to build and put in your backyard." Nalani explained.
And just like that, we've come full circle.
I realized I'm not all that bad at stitching. Although the work looks chaotic and I have no idea what the final picture will look like, I'm confident the stitches I'm sewing into these amazing souls will last. I shouldn't be so surprised. I had the best teacher.
Thanks for reading!
~Christy
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