All it takes for this 51 year old woman to be transported back in time is to feel a slight breeze across my face or smell the scent of hay and I’m right back on my grandparent’s farm. I was only there in the summers until 1970, so my memories are from the ages of three to eight but they are strong. At this time, I was being raised in a big city, so the sites I experienced in the country were very different.
I have wonderful pictures in my mind of the place, especially of my grandmother in her aprons. I never knew of anyone else who wore aprons all the time like she did. She wore the kind that slipped over the head with a bib and tied behind the waist. She of course, sewed all hers with simple cotton material. They always had a pocket on the right with a Kleenex inside.
She wore an apron while she cooked her wonderful, country meals and baked delicious goodies for her family. She wore the apron while we washed dishes, which she did like no one else I knew. We would wash in a big, white pan with a red rim around the top, then rinse in another pan just like it. When the dishes were done, the water would be thrown out in the garden for the flowers, because my grandma never wasted anything! While in her apron with me beside her, we would go out to their separate garage and wash clothes like no other. In a white, electric tub with wooden roller wringers that turned by you cranking the handle on the side. I see her in my mind, in her apron killing the snakes that got too close to the house and to her grandchildren, with her garden hoe. And in that apron, she would put me to bed, telling me stories about Henny Penny, Little Red Riding Hood, Cinderella, and Peter Rabbit. She never read these stories to me from a book, she told them all from memory.
I’m sure she took the apron off before she went to bed, but when I got up, there she would be in the kitchen, or outdoors donning another cheery one. When she died, I took two of her aprons, now faded from time, and they’ve been in my own home ever since.
This city grown girl is now a woman finally living in the country herself and loving it. I have grandma’s antique furniture in my own home now and strive to have gardens like she did. I cannot kill snakes like she did though, I run from them. She was much braver than me. My grandma was a hard worker and yet there was a simplicity in her day that I do not see much today. I long to go back and am striving for that simplicity again. I’ve started by putting on her apron…with a Kleenex in the pocket.
Our beloved grandmothers aren’t the only ones who wear an apron. When I think about the different professions of apron wearers, I think of blacksmiths, doctors, waiters, and cooks. A sign of an apron wearer is humility, the act of servant hood. We believers are called to be humble and to be a servant to others.
Thinking of aprons I can’t help but think of that unflattering statement put on grown children who still live with their parents. It is said of them that they are tied to their mother’s apron strings. This started long ago when mothers would tie their small children to their apron strings to keep them safe while they played. But this is a great picture for us believers as we should be tied to our Savior so we will not venture away from humility, servant hood and His love.
I sat in my grandmother’s lap as a little girl, smelling her scent on her apron, feeling comfortable and loved. May we as believers, crawl up into our Heavenly Father’s lap, soaking up the comfort and love from Him as well as His scent, so we can share the love and comfort with others and emit that scent to others to draw them to the One who loves them most.
This is in honor of all Apron Wearers