Thoughts from a dishcloth, pt. 1

Recently a dishcloth I have got me thinking. It doesn't look like much--just a plain cotton dishcloth, white with red and green stripes through it--but it is a reminder to me of masterpieces. Actually, it would be more accurate to say it redefines my notion of masterpieces.

My aunt made this dishcloth. Not cut a piece of cotton and hemmed it, mind you. Among many other diverse, amazing talents, my aunt was a master spinner. I remember one of the beautiful spinning wheels she had when I was just a little older than Keilana. My aunt Laura took some cotton, dyed it various colors, spun it into thread, wove it all together and--voila!--dishcloth. It isn't an example of her finest work, of course, but it got me thinking about how much work goes into even the little things in my life that I sometimes take for granted.

I have a sister who is the gifting queen. She is my oldest sibling, and was always very generous to me. We're almost 8 years apart and when I was about Kylie's age, my mom wrote in my journal "Christa spoils you". That never really stopped being true. When I was thousands of miles from home in Hawaii, it was Christa who sent me more care packages more than everyone else combined. She never misses a single birthday--packages reliably arrive for each of my kids on their special days and on Christmas. I'm pretty sure she's sent me a birthday present every year of my life. Often they are things she has made herself (and, unlike me, she's quite creative and skilled that way, so they're great presents to get). They usually aren't anything expensive or fancy, but with a family consisting of 30 people it adds up and getting those packages in the mail on time is no easy task (particularly since she runs an in-home daycare and trips to the post office are rather adventurous).

A few weeks after I was released from YW (and a month after I'd had a new baby, and a week or two after Christmas), I was starting to kind of get a handle on things but going through a bit of a funk, when a letter arrived in the mail from Bishop Meik. He expressed gratitude for the service I'd given in my calling and some of the things he loves and appreciates about me. Just a letter, right? No big deal? Well it is when you consider that he is Bishop of a rapidly growing and very, very busy ward. That he had 5 young children and a very, very pregnant wife at home. That he's the assistant city manager at a rapidly changing and very, very busy little town. That he's madly working on a dissertation in order to finish his doctorate. But he took the time to not only notice what I was doing in my calling, but to express his gratitude for it.

My sweet Douglas pays more attention than I often realize. One day (a particularly tiring one) I had done one of those "top 5" lists on Facebook and this particular one was "Top 5 things that would make me smile today". I had listed a nap, a professional massage, flowers, take-out and a love letter. He arrived home about 45 minutes later than usual with four bouquets of flowers, dinner from Panda Express and a love letter (he really had no control over the nap situation).

I feel a little like a dishcloth sometimes, quite plain and common and unremarkable. But as I looked at this little swath of cotton I remembered that a great deal of time, care, attention and work has gone into crafting this little life of mine, and not just by me--countless others have been there along the way, helping to spin some thread or throwing in a little color. It seems like everyone wants to be the grand tapestry or the $1000 silk scarf, but most of us are more like everyday dishcloths. I've decided I'm OK with it if the masterpiece of my life, that I have put so much time and effort and energy into, is a mere dishcloth. I used to think that it was better to be useful than to be beautiful, but I've come to understand that, in many ways, to be useful is to be beautiful.