THE TREASURED GIFT

The Treasured Gift

I picked up the piece of inlaid wooden artwork that has been in our lives since we married. It was made by my father-in-law and was a part of our wedding gift. I sat holding it and thinking of all the places it had been with us, all the pictures of family occasions where it could be seen in the background, of the time it was too near the fireplace and came apart in a few of the seams leaving me in tears but a few hours away from the heat it resumed it’s form again. What a wonderful relief!

It is difficult to describe this piece of art. For my daughter it has been a holder for a glass candy collection, for my son a place to put his guitar picks. It has also been a holder of a rose on the coffee table, and has been polished with care, and definitely treasured for thirty-seven years. It is the same for my husband, son and daughter. I found it hard to believe that of all the photos I have taken over the years, but I had yet to photograph this artistic gift of Poppy’s woodwork. It is not a vase as such, nor is it able to hold water without damaging it, and I am of the conclusion that the Master of Woodwork, Poppy Lowe, made it of his own design. It is original, about eight inches high and contains many different types of woods of Newfoundland. The juniper, maple, pine, birch and fir of our province are all perfectly inlaid in this woodwork. My imagination does not have to stretch far to see the maker of this art rubbing it with his withered hands, smoothing it over and over, and hearing the sound of the lathe and the smell of fresh wood in his workshop as he carefully put this gift for us together perfectly.

It happened to be one of our winter ‘snow-bomb’ days, with the country lane leading to our house a sheet of glittering ice, and the temperatures so low skin would freeze in minutes, so I had decided to take on the task of rearranging and generally having a ‘throw out’ time. I was home alone so nobody could stop me from discarding everything that had no special purpose. It was just heavenly, because I am known for my obsessive neatness and throwing away anything remotely resembling ‘clutter’. But when I picked up ‘the treasure’ my rearranging came to an end, and after half an hour of soul searching, I started photographing it. I took all sorts of photos of our wedding gift, even adding a ‘Newfoundland Tartan Rock’, a gift from my sister-in-law, to it for one shot, knowing that Poppy would heartily laugh if he could see it, his sense of laughter and fun being one of his family legacies.

What was he thinking as he worked on this gift in his workshop? Knowing him as I did, I think he would be reflecting on his son being married, and on me, the bride-to-be. We were friends, Poppy and I, right from the moment we met, when I was not quite nineteen years old. He would be thinking of his son, once his small child, but now a man and a police officer, and of me, now a nurse, and of us leaving our province, a necessity for my fiancé in order for him to pursue his career as a Canadian Federal Police Officer. He definitely would be thinking of our upcoming wedding, and would want the gift to be perfect, which it is. Yes, he would have poured his heart into the gift he was making, and would be so proud of his work once it was completed.

We were thrilled when we opened his gift some months later after the wedding, and knew it would occupy a special place in our lives because he had made it. He, the giver of the gift, was overjoyed that we loved it so much.

Sometimes over the years when times were difficult, the wooden holder held our sadness, at other times our laughter, and was always in a prominent place regardless of where we lived. Maybe that is what its maker wanted it to be, a holder for our emotions, a piece of himself to be there through the good and the bad. It worked, never failed us, and still doesn’t. He had to have chosen it’s specific design for a reason and that is the reason I have decided it was, and continues to be.

Both of my husband’s parents are gone now, but the workshop is still used by my husband, and is clearly off limits to me, just as it was for the first Nanny Lowe living on this land. Poppy Lowe allowed me to snoop around, but not this new Poppy Lowe, for him I am not to be ‘picking around’. It is just the way it is, ‘a Poppy’s space’, and to be left alone as Poppy wants it to be.

‘The Treasure’ is polished, and sits holding a red china rose, but is still prepared to hold our laughter, tears, sadness, fun, music or whatever the case may be. It is a ‘Treasure’, and I feel appalled that it has sometimes the meaning of it has been overlooked.

It will never be overlooked again, for now I know, after much contemplation, that it was a special man’s way to be with us throughout our lives, a presence reminding us Nanny and Poppy’s love for us, and reminding us of our love for them.

How often we overlook the special ‘treasures’ in our lives in today’s busy world. But I know now that this particular gift will never be neglected again, and am so thankful that I realized its importance in our lives and in the lives of those who come behind us.

How fortunate we were to have these special people in our lives. It can be summed up in one small sentence which says ‘And the greatest of these is love’.

Bonnie Jarvis-Lowe.

Story ID:	3454
Written by:	Bonnie Jarvis-Lowe (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Organization:	Retired RN/Freelance Writer and Photographer
Story type:	Family History
Location:	Clarenville,NL Canada
Year:	2008
Person:	My father- in- law, Abram Lowe