There is a new activity on my schedule. The local thrift store has a host of volunteers who sort, price, and sell the steady flow of items that come through their doors. I have long been a customer of the fabric they so generously offer, and now I help ready it for the shelves. Mine is a small part of a complex system that brings in substantial income for the school across the parking lot, the one five of my children graduated from. Plus it is fun. 

 

This week I counted flannel blocks in baby friendly colors, the UFOs from some seamstress whose energy was depleted before the project was finished. UFOs are Unfinished Objects, and they get you part way to the goal. 

 

I have benefited from a long line of women who passed along their half done quilts, and I feel a connection to them even in their anonymity. On occasion I have found windfalls of quilt tops, lovingly pieced, embroidered, or appliqued perhaps sixty years ago, and was delighted to bring them to completion. It would be lovely to thank those craftswomen, but I don't know their names.

 

There are other ways of handing off the efforts we care about. People who started initiatives at work, or began programs in their communities have to pass the baton at some point. As I imagine the efforts of my own life as part of a trajectory that began before me and will endure when I am gone, it lessens the expectation that I "arrive". It turns out that I can be content to show up, be part of the process, and let it go. 

 

And if it happens that no one knows my name, that will be fine.