For years it was up on the top shelf of a wall unit in the living room at home. You could barely see it, but I knew it was there. Then I brought it to the office and slid it between two bookshelves until I found the time to hang it. That was months ago.
Today I pulled it out and took a closer look. All of the lettering is in cross stitch and the rest is made up of a variety of stitches. It's beautiful, but simple. Maybe some of the beauty really is found in its simplicity.
Upon close inspection each tiny stitch is visible. I know how painstaking the process is: following the pattern, counting the squares, finding the right one, making the stitch so it's not too loose and not too tight, moving on to the next, then changing thread colors and starting again. Over and over again. Mom didn't make this in an hour or two. It took longer. I wonder where she started. Did she get frustrated and put it down while she finished other projects? Or did she focus on it from start to finish? Did she intend for this to end up with me when she started it?
I am humbled when I compare this to some of the simple needlework projects I have started with - a few bookmarks, some place mats, a towel.
I'm inspired to take on something a bit bigger now.
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