I've A Story To Share. . .

Creating vignettes within my own home decor gives me such joy!
It's the one designing prospect that allows my creativity to shine.

Those who have been privy to observe
state that it is like watching a great conductor direct an orchestra.

Now, 
I don't think I'd go as far as to say I'm a conductor,
but I do get a thrill out of creating vignettes On Crooked Creektt!

This petite table top is always a challenge to design.
I have my Large Print Bible that takes up the largest area,
for this is where I read my devotional, pray and study the Scriptures daily.

* * * * * * * * * * I've A Story To Share. . . * * * * * * * * * * 

I received this porcelain musical Angel the year I began playing Clarinet 
in my Elementary School Band. A dear, dear, lifelong friend of my MoMa's
gifted me with this musical Angel from Macy's in Kansas City, Missouri.

She is e x t r e m e l y delicate and fragile!

The Christmas of 1975, while stationed at Fort Hood, Texas,
she was in a terrible accident and I nearly lost her forever!

You see, dear ones, our toddler son was helping me unpack 
the Christmas decorations in our Government Quarters Duplex on the base.

My musical Angel was gently wrapped in tissue paper.
Our precious little one reached inside the cardboard box,
grabbed the tissue paper at one corner and pulled.

As he pulled the tissue paper, my Angel unwound and in a flurry of a second 
was sent crashing onto the tiled concrete floor below.
He turned to me with a big grin across his face, 
quite proud of his accomplishment as he "helped" me unwrap the decorations.

Blinking back tears, 
I gently walked over to the shattered head 
and recovered all the broken shards so that he wouldn't get cut.
I remained silent, for I knew if I spoke, I might be harsh.
I didn't want our son to associate harsh words to Christmastime.

I put all the broken pieces in a bowl,
knowing in my heart there was no way my Angel could be repaired.

As "Mr. Ed" returned home that evening,
I showed him our disaster of the day and then I broke into sobs.

I never heard him awake that night, never felt him leave our bed,
but when I awoke the next morning there she sat on the dining room table.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

And here she sits today,
nearly 40 years after the near disaster with the tissue paper, 
a concrete floor and the joy of a toddler helping with Christmas decorating!

Her sweet music box plays, "Silent Night".


Until next time. . .