Several years ago, before Little Brother was born, we received a beautiful handmade afghan as a gift. It was a joint effort by Gert and her daughter Patsy, who is herself the mother of one of our good friends. The afghan is exactly the same shade of blue as the pattern running through the living room couch, so we keep it there.
Many times daily, I pick up that afghan from where it lies in a heap someplace in the living room, carefully fold it, and put it back on the arm of the couch. It doesn’t stay there very long.
Early in the morning when I get up to start the coffee and my morning prayers, I curl up under that blanket with my prayer book.
Middle Sister is usually the next to get up, and by that time I’ve moved on to the kitchen to pack the lunches and watch the morning news on TV. Before she’ll think about breakfast, she snuggles under the blanket for a few minutes of warm and comfy waking up.
After Big Brother is dragged unwillingly from his bed, he too heads straight to the couch, where the blanket has been abandoned by Middle Sister in her rush to get dressed.
And his timing varies, but Little Brother often puts in some couch time with the blanket as well, when he’s still sleepy and I’m not sitting down to provide him with a lap.
It wasn’t too long after we received this afghan, that Gert passed away. Her granddaughter gave me Gert’s copy of the Secular Franciscan Rule at my Profession. Gert was an SFO also, and it meant a lot to me that her family wanted me to have Gert’s treasured book. No surprise there, though, since Gert and her family have always been generous with their love.
I think we feel a little bit of that every time we sit under our favorite blanket.