Creative Mama Kathlyn

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I was born a creator and a creation by the Creator. I always had this creative spark in me from day one on that beautiful Monday, May 4th back in 1981. That was the day, I, Little Bethie came into this big spacious world. Creative Bethie.

However, some things happened in my childhood that squashed my creative energy along the way. That is another story in and of itself for another day.

With much support, I am finding that creative energy again. It is returning to me…

Recently, through a meditation and some guidance from an energetic sage in my life, an unveiling from my yesteryears occurred. In my formative stages, my paternal grandmother laid a creative root system for me that had been hidden away in my subconscious for all these years… until now.

As I went through this meditation, I was able to go back to being 3 or 4 years old. I visualized walking through the halls and rooms of my grandparents home. Several memories came whirling back…

Her name was Kathlyn (pronounced Cat-lynn). I called her Mama (pronounced Maw-Maw).

In my tears, the first thing I remembered was that I felt safe, nurtured, and valuable while in her precious care. I felt creative, relaxed, and always wanted to explore inside and outside her home. She granted me much permission and encouraged my exploration. Mama had time for me. She taught me how to sew and cross stitch things like pillows and how to embroider aprons. I won a 1st place ribbon at the Dixie Classic Fair one year because I entered a pillow she taught me how to make.

Her and my grandfather (Papa, pronounced Paw-Paw) had a fragrant smelling garden that they tended to and ate from. And OH my, Mama’s fried chicken, apple pie, and peach cobbler. Not only the taste of these amazing foods, but the smell of them filling the air around me fueled my joy. I will cook bacon and vegetables sometimes in my own kitchen and suddenly it smells like Mama’s kitchen. It just takes me back. So comforting! For breakfast we could have at times plain Cheerios with honey or some bacon, eggs, and biscuits. I can just smell and taste it now as I write. Oh how I miss her food.

Papa even spent some time with me ‘teaching me how to play the piano’ with his knuckles. I can still play that little song on the piano that he taught me with his strong, manly warn hands.

I would spend the night at their house sometimes and in the room that I stayed in was a big wardrobe and I would wonder…Would this wardrobe lead me to a different land like in the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe?

At other times, I would sneak into Mama and Papa’s room to look at her jewelry and make-up and trying it on.

Mama loved to sing and her favorite song was the hymn “Morning has Broken.” She loved Easter time. We would die eggs, have egg hunts with my aunt, uncle, and cousins. My cousin Alison and I would laugh and giggle the day away.

She also loved flowers and she wrote poems about those precious flowers. She was a water color artist hanging her works of art around her home. Mama was a carefree, creative artist. I remember the colors, the smells, the textures, the sounds of the birds outside, the wind chimes, and most importantly the time she made for me to teach me so many wonderful things.

There were the quilts she handcrafted. The poodle skirt she made me for a dance I had. I have several treasures in my home today that she gave and passed down to me.

I remember going to magical places with Mama and Papa like Shatley Springs and drinking the magical healing water that allegedly brings health and restoration to the body. And then there was the Pollirosa Restaurant and Dance Hall which unfortunately has closed.

I could go on and on about the memories I have of my time spent with Mama and Papa, but I will stop there for now. I am reminded of her often these days especially when the wind chime rings in our yard. The picture above is of a quilt she made that I still have today.

Thanks for reading my tribute to Creative Mama Kathlyn!

Who was a safe person for you growing up? What was it like to be with that person or pet?

Until the next story…Bethie