we don't always get what we want

It was summer. The one time we were all together in Birmingham. Denise and Hayes had flown in from Fort Worth, Jim and I had driven in from Wilmington. Mom suggested Jim take some photos of the four generations together. Such a good idea. We posed for a few inside, with Mom sitting in her chair in the den, but then Jim said the light would be better outside, so we all trooped out to the front porch swing.

Before we left Mom handed me an old packing box. Inside were some of her handcrafted items. Foot warmers and lap robes and baby blankets, enough for each grandchild. And a peach and ecru bookmark for me. She said I should put it in my Bible and every time I looked at it, say a prayer for her.

Also in the big box was a shoe box. Inside it was a blue plastic bag, containing more items but these she specifically said I was to hold onto until the day Haysie Daisy got married. A heavy crocheted white purse, a delicate white hand-made-lace bouquet holder, and another crocheted bookmark, but this one in white with a pale blue ribbon. She said the purse and flower holder would be the something old, and the bookmark was for Hayes’ something blue.

I took it home. And for the next twenty plus years each time we moved, from house to house, and state to state, that old shoebox was one of the things I always packed first; the last time, I put it for safekeeping in Mom’s white luggage hat box. And that’s where it stayed after we moved here from Allen, next month will be thirteen years.

Since the time she gave it to me, I added only two items to the Hayes collection: Mom’s pearl collar, and a small gold and white bride’s Bible.

Several years ago, Hayes introduced us to Alex. After we got home that same day, I took out the shoebox and showed it to Jim. I told him that if anything happened that I should not be around for the wedding (because we KNEW this was the real thing and only a matter of time) he should make sure the shoebox got to Hayes. He agreed. I wondered if he’d remember.

Earlier this year Denise and Hayes came here for a short visit. Hayes told me she and Alex had set the date. I brought down the shoebox and gave her all the things in it, still nestled in the same white tissue paper and blue plastic bag. (Mom said it had to be blue so the white things would stay white. And she was right; remarkably, all these years, they did.)

Last Friday at the wedding, I thought briefly about THE BOX, but didn't see any of the items. Oh, well. The most important thing was that I had handed them over, and it was of course Bride's choice what she did with them.

But in the middle of the reception festivities, darling granddaughter took me aside, and pulled the bookmark from inside her gorgeous wedding gown. She had worn it all night. And of course, after I’d seen it, I cried. She cried, too, and then put it back, next to her heart. 

We don’t always get what we want, but with Providence, we always get what we need.