Remembering A Figurine

When I am in the kitchen, I wear an apron.
Not the little ones you remember from the Leave It To Beaver days.
Rather the long aprons that go down to your knees.
The aprons made of homespun fabric that has pockets in the front.

My apron has become my trademark.
It will stay on all through dinner, unless we are having company.
It may even stay on then, if I forget to take it off.
It protects my clothes; it can wipe water off of a glass when it’s humid.

The front pockets hold my glasses, which inevitably come off when I eat.
My glasses come off when I read or when I do any close work.
I always know where my glasses are if they are not on my face.
They are safe and secure in my apron pocket.

My apron has wiped away tears.
My apron has caught crumbs when a little one was sitting on my lap.
My apron helps me go back in time, at least in my mind.
Like Ma on the prairie, with Pa, Mary, Laura, and Carrie nearby.

Remembering my apron, I looked for the figurine.
I went to a wonderful thrift store in Amish country with my daughter and her friend.
The girls were having so much fun looking at all the old things.
I was having fun looking at the collection of figures on the shelf.

The figurine I remember belonged to my mother.
I have no idea what happened to it after she died.
I remember my mother had three figurines, but one in particular was my favorite.
I would play with the figurine with care since I was told it was fragile.

It was a figurine of a little pig-tailed girl with an apron.
I remember the apron was polka-dotted with a heart on the pocket.
The little girl had the ties of the apron in her hands.
She was wearing slippers on her feet.

I loved that little figurine.
Every thrift shop or antique store I visit, I always look for the little girl in the apron.
I have never found her.
I saw so many figurines today at the shop in Amish country, but not the one I wanted.

The figurine is not a Hummel, but it has that same look.
The ones I saw today had a date on the bottom that was the same year I was born.
I came home and searched eBay.
I saw a few pig-tailed girl figurines but not that one; I know that I will find her some day.

There is a certain thrill in the search.
The waiting makes it worthwhile.
I am in no rush.
It is not urgent that I find this little figurine.

It is a want, not a need.
It is simply trying to recapture a memory.
A memory that is firmly etched in my brain.
A tender memory from my girlhood.

Isn’t it funny how we remember things?
The elementary school we attended is so much smaller than we remember.
If we go back to the house we grew up in, the rooms are tiny and the hallway is narrow.
The backyard that seemed like a football field is really only the size of a postage stamp.

We never seem to remember things the way they really are.
We always put a spin on our memories.
We tuck our memories in a safe place and tend to remember only the good.
Sometimes when we come face to face with the real thing, we are disappointed.

I was fifteen when my mother died.
I was too young to realize that something like the little figurine should be saved.
I was too young to think ahead forty-one years into the future.
I never dreamed that a little figure of a pig-tailed girl with an apron would mean so much.

It’s silly the importance we put on things.
They are just things.
But things are often triggers.
A trigger that brings a sweet memory to mind is something to cherish.

We remember incorrectly.
We remember subjectively.
We remember what we want to remember.
We remember very poorly.

Praise the Lord, O my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name. Praise the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits – who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion, who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s. The Lord works righteousness and justice for all the oppressed. He makes known his ways to Moses, his deeds to the people of Israel: The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love. He will not always accuse, nor will he harbor his anger forever; he does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; for as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us. As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him. (Psalm 103:1-13)

We have a poor memory.
There is something that we must never forget.
There is something we must remember rightly.
We must remember all the benefits from God’s hands.

We must rehearse those benefits over and over.
We should write those benefits down on a list.
We should pull out that list on a dry day, on a day when we are not seeing God clearly.
We must remember the benefits coming from God’s hands in order to refresh our memory.

The figurine I’m searching for is simply something I want.
Remembering God’s benefits is absolutely something I need to do.
I may be remembering my mother’s figurine incorrectly, putting my own spin on it.
I must never make the same mistake with God’s benefits.

Praise the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits.
Praising the Lord is a must.
Forgetting not all His benefits is a necessity.
Remembering correctly all the things God has done is so important.

Praise the Lord, O my soul.
Tie a string around your finger if you must to help you remember.

 

2 responses to “Remembering A Figurine”

1. Beautiful Gina…

   Reply

   • Thank you, Sherie.
     You and I know about those tender “mother” memories!
     Gina

     Reply