Ties that Bind

I don't remember when Jacqui gave me the little pincushion.  Needless to say, I use it.  I use it a lot.  It is small enough that it fits into my small travel box where there is just enough room for a spool of thread and my small sewing scissors as well as the pin cushion.  So in addition to using it at home, it has traveled many miles with me as I have taken textiles to be hemmed as hand work in the evenings.

It finally wore out from all the times pins have been stabbed into it - the fabric disintegrated in one corner.  Since Jacqui died last year, I have kept it beside me in my box of threads and such for hemming in the evening while I watch tv.  And when I use it, I remember my friend, feeling close to her.

But.  It has worn out.  It was time to replace it.  But.  This one was made by a friend, now sadly gone.  A visual reminder and remembrance.

During this time of pandemic, a time that isn't going to pass any time soon, where masks are going to be needed and the recommendation has become common to wear a non-medical mask, Mary offered to make masks for Doug and me.

While she was at it, she also included a pin cushion.  We had talked about my Jacqui pincushion when Mary was visiting in January and she agreed that it was time to retire Jacqui's.  That it was worn out.

And so I now have another pin cushion, made by another friend.

It is another point of connection between people.  Jacqui making my first pin cushion, Mary, seeing the need for a new one, knowing that I would value and appreciate it.  Making a very special pin cushion that I could use to retire the old one that I valued.

Knowing that I had reached the stage of mourning that I could give up Jacqui's.

The ties that bind are sometimes small but powerful.  It doesn't matter the skin tone.  What matters is the love that is expressed, sometimes ephemerally, sometimes physically.

We are all human beings, descended from common ancestors.  All lives matter, including the brown ones and the black ones.  All of the oppressed ones.

This morning I read a powerful essay by Hannah Blank.  Out of this time of turmoil and unrest, I have found some eloquent voices that I would not have seen previously.  Strong voices.  Compelling voices.  Voices that call for equality and equity for all, not just some.

Someone commented yesterday that it is possible to be 'racist' and be against 'racism' in large part because racism is so bound into our culture and systems that we don't even realize that we ARE racist.  I have, time and time again, stumbled against the wall of my white perception and only slowly begun to tear that wall down.

I have much work to do to continue this work of opening my eyes to see the wrongness of the systems that benefit me, simply because of my whiteness.  I am a work in progress.

But I also recognize that we are all tied together, by our humanity, and somehow, some way, we need to recognize this and work on it, to the best of our ability.