In our family tree, we have a Quaker heritage through my mother's family. A well-known saying is "Hands to help, hearts to God." We have a cup with that motto on it. It was made by a wonderful Quaker couple Donnette met when she lived in Des Moines. We have several pieces they made, including a set of four cups with images and names of four of our favorite camping places drawn on them. Some of you have pie plates with a quote from the Shaker song: "'Tis a gift to be simple, 'tis a gift to be free, 'tis a gift to come down where you want to be...." We also have a Shaker heritage on my mother's family line.

I have met the Quaker couple in Des Moines. As I bake with this pie plate, I usually think about them and their talent in forming these pieces, fireing them, and painting them. They have hands that help give me a gift of beauty. I am sure they have hearts to God as well.

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about how wonderful our hands are. Each morning, I have to take three pills. I put the bottles on the bathroom counter, open one of the three, pour one pill into the palm of my hand and put the lid back on the bottle. Then I open the next bottle to pour one pill into my palm, but sometimes three or four come out. Because of the wonder of my hand, I can maniuplate the first pill and just one of the three new ones with my thumb until they are underneath my four, curled fingers. Then it is easy to pour the remaining errant pills back into the bottle and close the lid. I often have to repeat this for the last bottle as well. A simple task, but somehow it has set me to thinking about all I can do with my hands--such as find the correct keys on this computer to type this message, or scratch my nose when it itches, or knead bread, sew on a button, tie my shoe, clumsily pick out notes on my guitar, pick up a paint brush and put paint on where I want to put it, quicky turn the page on a book--so many things.

As I was thinking about this, I suddenly realized that there is one in our family who has never really been able to do many of these things. That's right--Fiona. I thought how frustrated I would be if I couldn't use my hands to do all the things I love to do. I think I would be angry. I think I would feel left out of so many things I consider to be so ordinary. I think I would be jealous of those who can.

Several times a week, Fiona calls me and many of the rest of you just to visit awhile. It is her way of keeping connected to the family. I have found these calls to be among the sweetest moments in the day. Sometimes I am busy, or watching a favorite t.v. show, or doing something else I think is so important. But when I stop to talk and listen to Fiona--when I ask her questions and spend the time to listen--I am always glad. Lately, she has been given complete responsibility for a Chocolate colored Lab who is over weight and needs to be exercized. It is fun to hear about how she is meeting this challenge. I wonder how she overcomes the difficulty of hands that don't work as well as mine to care for the dog.

I suggest that, if your telephone number is not on Fiona's cell phone and she is not calling you, maybe you could give her a call some evening and talk with her. She often calls me once she gets in bed at night. Her telephone number is: 1-216-570-1348.

I love you all. You each have wonderful individual gifts. Maybe we can help Fiona to realize what her special gifts are.

Love, Grandma