Saturday, February 21

kitchen art

This piece of stained glass art sits in my kitchen. It's simple. Happy. And it is one of the few things that goes with me always.


In my early teens we spent a summer vacation at a Baptist family campground in Wisconsin. I think it was on Green Lake (sorry my memories are not more precise). We're not baptists, but we were a camping family and this site was nondenominational (allowed visitors from any denomination), beautiful and had lots of things to do.


Early teens... those years of balling up inside, criticizing everything, trying to figure out how you really feel about the world. The WHOLE world, all at once, and all of humanity and it's quirks and becoming overwhelmed and emotional and balling up more. I think it takes a clever parent to maintain a presence with a teenager.


That summer my mom and I each made a stained glass piece. This is mine. It took us about four days to put our pieces together and we did everything from choosing the pattern and glass, cutting the shapes and soldering them together. I remember us rolling our eyes together at all the biblical quotes one guy kept throwing out. "Let there be light!" Shifting through trays of colored glass; nodding to each other or pushing over a piece that we thought the other might like. It was a nice way to spend the week together.


At times my stained glass has been a sunrise and others, a sunset. Sometimes I'd stare at it and demand the answer, and it would just shine back at me. But always lifting me up and bring something that feels like acceptance. I've a sneaky suspicion that comes from my mom.

It used to hang in my bedroom window, but since I moved out it's been in my kitchen. My mom's is in her kitchen and I always smile when I see it there. It's a subtle connection that feels... good and strong. It makes me feel glad about who I am.

13 comments:

  1. Your stained glass is beautiful! I love that it was something you and mother did together. :) What does her's look like?

    ReplyDelete
  2. I love stained glass pieces!! Yours is very beautiful and i love that it is different to you at different times in your life!!!

    Wonderful post!!!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Thats really sweet, how wonderful to have that with you where ever you are to remind you of special times and your special relationship with your mother.

    ReplyDelete
  4. That's really beautiful. What a priceless piece!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Beautiful piece. I'd think of it as a sunrise - new beginnings.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Awesome. And that sits in the kitchen ! Wow !

    ReplyDelete
  7. Love the story. And your stained glass is beautiful.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Not sure which is more beautiful -- the stained glass or the story.

    ReplyDelete
  9. i am not sure how i found my way here, but I am darn glad I strayed off the beaten path and ended up on your stoop, er, at your blog! amo leggere i racconti!! I look forward to catching up!

    ReplyDelete
  10. That is so nice! I wish I had something like that; something concrete. My mother and I cook together, so our masterpieces are all consumed! :)

    ReplyDelete
  11. I love your stained glass art (really! I love the bright colors and I have a fascination with suns and the color yellow!) and I love your blog. I've been poking around here for awhile and I think you are brave and adventurous and very, very interesting. stale peeps though? really? okay, we'll just have to agree to differ on that subject. ;)

    ReplyDelete
  12. Very nice art and post, Christine. My mom, love her heart, can't could never sew on a button, but as a nurse, she was the one in the hospital who could always find a vein. She could heal anything, and in other eras would have been the village wise woman or a doctor.

    My daughter and I, however, are the "craftsy" ones. I'd love to say the "artsy" ones, but we're definitely more crafsty. We are art lovers who make vain stabs at being that way. Nevertheless, we love our creations for the remembrances they bring us. You've made me think about that. Thanks.

    ReplyDelete
  13. Sorry about the missed editing in the above comment. Should have said, "my mother could never."

    ReplyDelete

...and you may ask yourself, well...how did I get here?