Lily’s Baby Shower
On a snowy Saturday in January, my sister Emily turned Mom’s house into a spring garden. Outside, the yard was white and frozen. Inside, it was a garden tea party for Lily.
Emily borrowed every teacup Mom owned, plus a box of them from the ladies at church. No two matched, and that was the charm of it. There were pots of yellow tulips on every table, cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off, lemon cookies, and Mom’s silver teapot polished up like a mirror.
About twenty-five women came. Some have been my friends since grade school. Some teach right down the hall from me. Nana Linda came early to help and stayed late to wash cups.
Everyone insisted I sit in Mom’s blue wingback chair with my feet up. I was almost eight months along and could no longer see my own shoes.
Emily kept a list of every gift. Mom kept the tissues coming. Snow fell past the windows all afternoon, and the kettle never stopped.
At one point I looked around that warm, crowded living room and thought, Lily, look how many people love you already. And you’re not even here yet.
The Little Things We Don't Want to Forget
Emily’s first game was to guess the size of my belly with a piece of ribbon. Nana Linda cut hers so long it went around me twice, and she laughed until she had to sit down. Grandma Ruth’s ribbon was exactly right. She has been measuring people for sewing projects for fifty years, so nobody was surprised.
Instead of a guest book, everyone filled out a card with advice for Lily to read someday. Grandma Ruth wrote, “Say your prayers, and always write your thank-you notes.” Aunt Emily wrote, “Your mom will say no. Call me.”
Grandpa Joe and Uncle Dave were supposed to stay down in the den with the ballgame. They lasted about twenty minutes before they wandered in to “check on the cookies.” They stayed for cake.
At four o’clock, Michael arrived to load up the gifts. Emily crowned him with a hat made from all the bows off the presents, and he wore it out to the truck like a king. It took three trips, and the stroller box only fit after Dave took charge.
A Few Words from Grandma Ruth
Sarah asked me to write a few words, so here they are.
I made Lily’s quilt over the fall at my kitchen table, mostly after Joe had gone to bed. Little squares of buttery yellow, pale green, and white. Some of those squares came from Sarah’s baby dresses that I saved in my cedar chest. One came from my own mother’s apron. So Lily will sleep under four generations of the women in her family.
When Sarah unfolded it, the whole room went quiet. Then Emily started crying, and then I did too. Silly old woman.
I have lived in this house for more than thirty years. I brought both of my girls home to it. It did my heart good to fill it with women who love my granddaughter before she has even arrived.
I wrote a verse in Lily’s card, and I will write it here too, because it is true: “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above.” That is what Lily is.
There is one more thing waiting in my cedar chest. But that is for another day.
— Grandma Ruth
