The Button Jar Speaks
by Carla Rolfe

Once upon a time in a land not so far away, there was a little white house on a corner, with a large pear tree in one part of the yard, a most fragrant lilac bush in the other, and assorted children's toys in and around the driveway...

In the little white house was a big bedroom in the back, with an antique dresser, and a great big oval mirror. On the dresser was a large jar, of assorted sizes and shapes, of buttons. I can see the jar in my mental photo album, just as clearly as if I were standing there looking at it.

It was a big jar, biggest I'd ever seen. It was filled 3/4 the way to the top, with buttons. The lid was red, with some type of adhesive sprayed or painted on, and glitter stuck to the adhesive. It had a slit in the top, likely put there by a screwdriver and hammer, made just large enough to be a convenient way to slip in new buttons.

I remember going into my mom's room, where the jar sat on the dresser, and taking the jar down, and opening the lid. I can amost feel the coarse texture of the lid in my hands, as I'd twist the lid with all my might, with both hands, and open it up. I'd find a place on the floor, an open space big enough for me to sit, and pour out the buttons. What a treasure!

There were buttons shaped like gemstones, buttons of every color, buttons from clothes I had never seen, and shirts, dresses, coats and sweaters, that I hadn't seen for many years. There were buttons shaped like little pieces of bamboo, buttons that looked like gold, or silver, and even some that looked like pennies. Buttons that looked like candy, buttons that didn't even look like buttons.

It didn't matter how many times I would pour those buttons out on the floor, it seemed like I'd always find a new one! How did that get in there?? It wasn't there the last time I went through the buttons, I knew those buttons better than I knew my times tables.

I never really gave it a whole lot of thought at the time, but I always felt so comforted by the fact that the button jar was there. That might sound odd at first, but it's really not so strange. As I grew up, and was from time to time reminded of my most fond childhood memories, that button jar was always among the best of the best. That big ole button jar said so much about my mom.

• She was smart - she had the forethought to save buttons for the next mending job, and she ALWAYS had a button to match a blouse when a button went missing.
• She was frugal - she saved ornamental buttons from clothes that were no longer wearable, and used them on new sewing projects, or to jazz up a plain sweater.
• She was creative - the vast assortment of the buttons in that jar represented her sense of humor, her old fashioned values, and her very own upbringing - all present in one big jar.
• She was sensitive - when one of us had an article of clothing that was our favorite, and no longer wearable (either wore out or outgrown) she'd save the buttons, because she knew how much it meant to us.
• She was elegant - she had a very large collection of petite, sparkly buttons, the kind that looked like little diamonds, or rubies.
• She was trendy - the bamboo buttons and the ones shaped like lady bugs were two of my favorites.

It's not so strange I would be comforted by a button jar with a scratchy, red-sparkly lid - for inside that jar were many years of testimonies to the woman who owned it. That was MY mommy!

I dont know whatever happened to the button jar. My mom's house burnt to the ground in 1991, and it may have been among her things, that were lost... I've never asked her, so I dont know for sure. I'm not even sure I want to know, if it did.

Part of the reason I described this blog the way I did, was because of what that button jar represented to me, growing up, and even now. It does a heart good to wander down the hall of time, and take a look into the old rooms... especially when there's an antique dresser in there... and on the dresser, in the same place it always was, is a large jar of buttons.

Here's to my mom... and her buttons. :-) She has no idea that goofy ole jar of molded plastic an left such an impression on me. Like most moms, I suppose she has no idea really, the impressions she left on me in many ways. There is a very good reason I still say she is the coolest mom in the world - and as far as I'm concerned, she always will be.

If I can have that same affect on my children, I'd sure be happy.

Reprinted with permission. Please visit the author's web site blog whenever you can. You will find encouragement and interesting topics.
http://carla_rolfe.blogspot.com