Almost twenty years ago, after my father-in-law passed away, my mother-in-law, Alma, who was suffering with Alzheimers, had to leave their little farm and live with a son. Some of the family came in and began to clean out their belongings. My sons were probably 8 and 10 at the time, and while playing around in the back pasture came across the pile of things that had been thrown. Among them was a little book that Alma had written in beginning in approximately 1938. It only holds a few entries, but this poem was among them. Alma played the organ at the little Lutheran church in Glyndon, MN from the age of 11 until in her 70's. I'm glad this was salvaged. (We had no part in the "clean up" because we lived far away. How anyone could throw this out I'll never understand.)
Another treasure thrown on the trash heap was this jar of buttons. The way I heard the story, my son Jordan found the jar on the same heap of belongings mentioned above and picked it up crying, "Grandma's button jar!" We had lived with my in-laws for several months and the boys had seen this jar sitting on a cupboard shelf where it had held Alma's buttons for many years. Once again, how could you throw this away? It now holds a place of honor on my bookshelves next to her little diary. The lid is stuck on, so it's sort of like a time capsule. If you shake it around a little you find a cameo, a crochet hook and other special items surface as the buttons move around. Very special to us!
I'm off to work. I hope you have a great day!
Shalom.
How lovely, Lisa! Think of all the treasures that have been overlooked . . .
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