Gifts

Antique lace and embroidered handkerchiefs truly do carry with them something of the character of those who made them, those who carried them in weddings and on travels, and those who loved them enough to save and preserve them.

These dear decorative handkerchiefs teach us somethign profound: no one ever needed a decorated handkerchief for anything except a spiritual reason, as an expression of the needs of the human soul for thigs mere beyond physical requirements. Whether they were flaunted as an expression of conspicuous wealth or testaments of skill and possibilities, they filled a human need to be surrounded with beauty.

- from "Whitework embroidered lace handkerchiefs" by Elizabeth M. Kurella 

    One of my resolutions and goals for this year, 2024, is to give my loved ones meaningful and wonderful gifts, to the best of my ability (and pocket). As this year closes, I can say, with little doubt that I have been able to give some of the most important people in my life gifts that hold evidence of the love I have for them. Some of these gifts were handmade, most of them were bought, almost all were received with smiles and gratitude. Now, as the year closes and the next is about to begin, I have committed myself to sewing and embroidering gifts for some of the same people and some new people I have met along the way. 

    As an absolute beginner with both sewing and embroidery, I learn as I go. Each gift is a considerable improvement from the last. The progress is clear and difficult to ignore, from being horrible with scissors, to horrid measurements, to wobbly and shabby corners, to bad decisions about with embroidery stitches to use, to seams being ripped out of the stitches, to learn embroidery stitches as I go. The recipients enjoy the gifts but everytime I finish a gift, I feel a considerable amount of guilt for not giving a perfect piece. 

    Irrespective of the amateur imperfections in these gifts, through the process of making them, my love for the recipients only increase. For the few days during which I dedicate my time to these gifts, that person is the only one on my mind. How I met them, how I view them, what I can remember about them. I go back in time to our interactions and I analyse their behaviour. I think of how they present themselves, would my gift compliment their appearance or clash? I think of the words thay have spoken to me, do they need reassurance? Perhaps some encouragement or just a reminder that I love them? This temporary obsession and the labour put into the gift uplift the person in my eyes. The emotion is spilled onto the fabric and takes upon a tangible form of a handkerchief or cloth pouch. It is my intention that the person senses all my love and contributes their own love and gratitude onto the fabric as well, transforming it into a true token of love. I feel like I repeated the word "love" too much but it has no adequate synonym.

    Currently, I am making a gift for a friend who is a sewist and I am unable to overcome the fear that the gift would be so full of amateur technique, they will be embarrassed to use it outside. A very silly fear. I am learning a difficult embroidery skill just to impress them and distract them from the fact I messed up the measurements again. Another gift is being made for a friend who is a fimmaker, and I am stepping out of my comfort zone to delivery something beautiful, but I have not been friends with them long enough to know whether it will be received well. It probably would. I can admit the gift is beautiful, I am just ashamed that I am the one making it. 

As always, thank you for reading

♡M-