Let me introduce you to a special friend and volunteer blogger for the night.
Vicky and I have known each other through a lot of life and we both love buttons.
Seventy years ago, my Grandma filled these jars with homemade pickles and pickled beets. The oldest jar has the year 1929 embossed on the bottom. Now these jars are filled with buttons. Some came my way after Grandma died and some just seemed to follow me home.
A few years ago, I was a primary caregiver during my mother-in-law’s need for palliative care. One day, I took a break and headed over to Lens Mill store. I sat on a little box and spent an hour and a half rooting through a huge bin of buttons, picking out the special ones to fill my little fill-the-bag-for-ten-dollars bag to the very brim. Rummaging through that button bin “filled me” – I don’t know what it is about buttons but that was definitely the day I discovered the value of button therapy.
I love that my jars of buttons are filled with old metal army buttons and plain black practical buttons, sparkly green bling buttons and little pink bunny buttons. They spark a creativity that makes me want to make something just so they’ll have a purpose beyond the jar. I like that they can sit unused for years and never get stale. I like that I can dump the jar just to look at them. I like that my friend’s little girls run up to me at church and ask if they can come visit so they can sort my buttons again.
It’s a small thing but I’m discovering that in life, the small things can be really big things. I’m getting a better grasp on the value of simple. The beauty of little. The world may be screaming that more is better and bigger is the way to aim but I think that sometimes, more choice just leads to more dissatisfaction. I think God is onto something with this Still Small Voice thing…
I want a button jar too. Tomorrow afternoon,Vicky and I are goin’ to the button store.