Perhaps a bell this time?

I am a fan of being creative. I love to MAKE stuff. I like to sew, embroider, needlepoint and crochet. I like painting and drawing although I'm not so talented in those areas. I like using my hands to produce something and then looking at it later and saying, "I did that. I must be very smart." Or even better, showing YOU what I did and letting YOU say, "You did that? You are very smart!"

I believe I got this illness from my mother. She was always sewing something or making a huge embroidered wall hanging full of color and crazy chain stitches and whipped stitches and french knots. And for Christmas, my sisters and I always got something under the tree that was crafty. Almost always, we got a beaded doll kit. Those dolls lined a shelf in the den with their chenille pipe cleaner arms and their sequined, beaded dresses and increased in number by the year. If it wasn't that, it was a loom on which to weave potholders or a kit to make jewelry or pom-pom animals with little googly eyes.

I'm foggy about the exact year, but I think I was about 7 years old when my mother did something new and different. She made a stained glass candle holder, only it wasn't glass, it was made of tiny, melted, clear, colored, plastic pellets of some kind. I will never forget the smell, but likewise, I will never forget the resulting product. It was the shape of a cathedral window and the picture that she formed in the window was Mary, kneeling. The air around her head was a clear midnight blue and the cloth on her head was white. The dress she was wearing was the most amazing color of blue I have ever had the pleasure to drink in with my eyes. The candle was placed behind the window so the light shining through made it even more amazing to look at. I loved that thing with all my heart and I would watch that candle flicker behind the mother of Jesus as long as I was allowed. I don't remember the year it was retired from our Christmas decorating, but I do remember that it was broken and I was so sad when I saw it tossed into the garbage as if it was old and dirty and not made of pure unadulterated goodness and light like I knew to be so.

About 13 years ago, I was in an antique store and I came across an iron, stained glass Christmas tree candle holder. Although it was mostly all wrong in appearance, it tugged strongly at my heartstrings and I had to buy it. It was a symbol of something I had long ago lost. I was very excited and it held an important place in my Christmas decorating. Two years later, I had a garage sale. My neighbor asked if she could place some things in my sale and I told her that she was welcome. She came over with a pile of stuff and amongst it was an iron, stained glass wreath that was absolutely the brother of my tree. I bought her trash and made it my treasure.

Since then, I have acquired four other relatives of the tree, including the tree's twin brother. You may find this to be excessive. It may be. But dear gussy, it makes me happy. And don't think for a second that when I saw another vintage, 1970, iron, stained glass candle holder on eBay this afternoon, I didn't bid immediately. I know Mary Poppins says that enough is as good as a feast, but I tend more toward the more the merrier.