“I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship”
-Louisa May Alcott, Little Women
When confronted with life’s inevitable storms, I reflect upon my grandmother. Her energy was gentle yet profound, like a breath. I can no longer ask her advice, but I can lean into what I remember about the way she lived her life. I carry within me her words of wisdom and the warmth of her embrace. In the quiet moments between breaths, I’m soothed by memories of her, and it’s in that space that I recenter when I’m feeling lost.
I called her “Babcia,” the Polish word for grandmother. Most evenings, I’d curl up on her bed beside her, and she would reflect and tell me stories of her life experiences. She endured a lot of trauma during her life, yet she always maintained a strong sense of hope, perseverance, and love.
I remember her hands as she taught me how to sew and embroider. Sewing was both practical and creative, to mend and also to beautify. The most seemingly unsalvageable pieces came together under her encouragement and delicate stitches. I think of her every time I pick up a needle and begin to sew.
On a recent snowy day, my children and I decided to curl up under a blanket and watch Little Women together. As fluffy snowflakes fell outside the window, we considered connections, great loss, gentle wisdom, and growth through struggle. Later that evening, my youngest recalled a scene where the character, Jo, said “I can’t believe childhood is over.” My daughter expressed her own fear of time passing and a desire to linger in moments. She said that she has been witnessing her sister growing, her interests changing, and how she wished they could stay children forever. I held her in my arms and rocked her. I noticed how her long limbs dangled over the arm of the chair, and I recalled how her entire body once fit easily into the crook of my arm.
In the movie, the character, Meg, reflected on aging and replied, “It was going to end one way or another. And what a happy end.” We cannot stop time, but we can notice and cherish moments. Days can pass in a blur. If we take the time to notice, there are sparks of light that can help to guide us through even the darkest of days.
February can be bitterly cold, yet it also holds a promise that spring will come soon. Darkness is slowly giving way to light, and with it comes emergence, growth, and new life. Maples pull sugary sap from their roots toward their limbs, sending energy to create leaves. Birds begin to sing louder, reaching out and reconnecting with mates. On days when ice thaws, frogs will emerge from brumation and join voices in song. This month invites us to reach out to loved ones. As a child, I remember decorating a shoebox and bringing a stack of paper cards for my classmates. It was the one day when everyone brought greetings for one another, a late-winter moment of connection and laughter.
My grandmother’s mending becomes a powerful metaphor when I see systems and relationships that seem broken and unsalvageable. People can be brought back together after situations tear us apart, through listening, humanizing, finding commonality, and collaboration. The values we hold dear, when we look below the surface fragments, are often the same.
I was sorting through some boxes at my mom’s house, and I came across a framed piece of embroidery that I hadn’t seen in decades. I ran my fingers across the colorful threads, and I felt like I’d found an old friend. The piece was made by my grandmother, and stitched into the cloth was the powerful word, “Love.”
Who are the powerful figures in your life that help to guide you through challenges? Is there anyone you’d like to send a card to?
Katherine Munter, clinical psychologist, art therapist, and founder of Creative Life Therapy, an Ann Arbor practice of art therapy and integrative wellbeing. Learn more at www.CreativeLifeTherapy.com.
