I don’t believe in ghosts and I don’t believe in luck. But I do believe in energy. I believe that if you wake up in the morning and think you’re going to have a bad day, you ultimately will. On the other hand, if you wake up in the morning and embrace the possibilities of a good day ahead, you will ultimately have a good day. I also think that if you are in the midst of struggle, you can change your mind about how you feel and how you react, thereby changing the outcome.
Now, here’s where it gets weird. I believe that things have energy too – or more specifically – that things can inherit energy from whence they came. I know, hang in there with me for a moment. One thing you must know is that I didn’t grow up with this new-age mindset. I went to Catholic high school and was taught that if I wanted anything, I would have to pray to God for it and then hope that I had been good enough to earn it. It was when I was 23 and struggling with the death of my Nana that I learned about energy.
My Nana was the epitome of happy. She always had a good day. She always had a smile. She was always surrounded by loving friends. In her presence, I was at my happiest, my strongest, and finally at peace. But, she died at 82. The days following her passing were blurry pictures shrouded in a distant echo of voices I never really heard. In my fog, I semi-consciously watched as her belongings were pillaged and decades of childhood memories were being tossed into the trash. I pulled it together and channeled my grief into action. To me, nothing was trash. Not the soap dish, not the napkin holder, not the bent serving spoon, and definitely not the 1950 Singer sewing machine.
I learned to sew on that old, beautiful cast iron sewing machine. I learned about myself and I learned about true love from my Nana. We created some of the most simple, yet inspiring, creations on that machine. So, I lugged the 45-pound memory back to my apartment, set it on my desk and proceeded to cry. Now what? Damn it girl, start sewing. And, sew I did. With my Nana in my heart, the Healing Bear was born in 1991.
This past summer, I pulled the only two remaining handcrafted Healing Bears from storage. My daughter was intrigued. I explained to McKenna that I started making the bears as a tribute to my Nana, but then they took on greater meaning as I started making them for the sick. I told her the story of the young woman I met when we shared a hospital room. She had just been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. I gave her one of my bears and we talked through the night. The next morning she was gone to surgery and I never saw her again. She was terminal they said. I was devastated. I wanted her to live so badly. I left the hospital with only the hope that the little bear would give her strength during her struggles.
McKenna's first Healing Bear
I was shocked when I received a card from her 52 days later. It was a thank you for the Healing Bear that never left her side during the months that she fought for her life. At the end of the note, she told me she was cancer-free. After that, I lost count of the number of Healing Bears I gave away and how often I learned that the recipient got well – babies, adults, and children.
To this day, I believe that the energy that goes into making the bears on the sewing machine from my Nana is a love that can give people hope – maybe just what they need to fight and to win. Since the summer, we’ve already made and given away four Healing Bears. McKenna, too, believes in the power of the bears and that they can only be sewn on the old, temperamental Singer. My Nana loved me. McKenna feels that same love. And, that love is now part of every Healing Bear that is kissed and hugged by McKenna before it gets a new home. In the end, love is the thread that runs through it all – whether it’s a teddy bear, a running skirt, or a memory that gives us everlasting peace.
DANG! Making me cry first thing in the morning again! (Good tears) Love your writing, Callie!
Callie, the story of the Healing Bears is rich in so many ways. I felt as if I were watching you from a close distance while you were onitially in your apartment alone with the 1950’s era Singer sewing machine. Your writing is beautiful – what a gift.
Catholic High School -Sweet! I have come to believe you pray to God directly, or for intercessions pray to Mother Mary, a saint or whomever you desire, and let your thoughts be known. God will ultimately decide what is best for us – and, sometimes, the best for us in unanswered prayer.
Love your writing, Callie. Have a wonderful day (know you will!).
Thank you Bill and Betsy. I never want to lose the memories of my Nana and writing about them helps me keep her close. Now, my children get to be close to her and to me at the same time. We are happy – it’s important to share that.
Callie,
Perhaps the energy is a manifestation of the love that you shared with your. Nana. It certainly was a profound and powerful connection between two remarkable people. You have also expanded the circle of life with Mackie’s participation. She is now connected to her great grandmother through that love and generosity of spirit. The positive energy in life is always about love (or baseball). As always, your writing is brilliant and touching.
Oh Joe, I think you see things so much more clearly than so many of us do. My hope is that we can all be a little happier and have a little more hope by taking it one day at a time. I think that by remembering Nana and sharing those memories with my children and friends, it puts a little bit more peace in our hearts and helps remind us of what is really important. I am so glad to know you are well and that love (and baseball) remains embedded in your heart as well. Thank you for sharing in a little piece of my world.
Pingback: Pretty in Pink | RunningPretty, Writing Real