About that Candlestick

In a previous post, I mentioned a candle stick from the Holy Land. Bear with me whilst I elaborate...my friend, Laresa moved into a new home and wanted some decorating help from another friend and me. As we moved things about and made suggestions...we decided to arrange the items on the fireplace mantle in a more TeLene and Connie like manner...I carefully removed a sweet wooden candlestick to be placed atop a stack of books...very pleasing to the eye...however the candlestick had other plans slipping out of my hands onto...yep, the brick hearth. Yes, dear readers, it cracked in half. I picked up the pieces and just stood there holding them as if they would magically fuse together again. The look on my face had my friend, TeLene looking at me in alarm. I reluctantly opened my hands to show TeLene and Laresa the broken candle stick. Laresa told me this was a candle stick her mother brought her from Jerusalem, the HOLY LAND made from the wood of the olive tree. Imagine my horror, not only did I break something...I broke something that was sentimental and would be impossible to replace!

Laresa, the mother of five boys at the time (she now has six) was very nonchalant about the candle stick saying that it was only a matter of time before one of her boys broke it anyway. I am pretty sure she forgave me right then and there. I still felt ill...better one of her boys than me...I was just a friend...the boys were her flesh and blood!

For those few moments that I held the broken candlestick I felt like the six year old girl child playing with a beloved paper doll of a friend only to have the head come off in my hand. I was so upset I could not even look up at anyone for the longest time. I do not know if my six year old brain thought I would be severly punished for the accident but I can remember the burning shame of it as if it were happening right this very moment.

The candle stick comes up in many conversations and it is always hilarious, however a teeny, tiny part of me still remembers that horrible feeling of breaking something special. I always suggest to those wanting decorating assistance that I will be happy to help as long as they don't have candlesticks from the Holy Land that require me moving them.

I might mention that Laresa is quite an awesome person as this was not the only time she forgave my follies. I made marshmallow guns with the youth of our church one evening. Her son due to go on a trip to Utah by airplane was stopped by security for having the marshmallow gun in his backpack...yikes what a mess! By the way the marshmallow gun really does not look like a gun at all and Alex in no way resembles a terrorist...I believe he was 12 or 13 (somewhere around that age) at the time. He gets teased about it all the time and I think he has forgiven me as well.

The candlestick was mended with glue and Laresa promises that you can't tell it was ever broken...the marshmallow gun was dis-assembled and left behind...being my friend is always an adventure and not for the squeamish! Usually...a great time is had by all!

(the candlestick in the above photo was borrowed from a site selling them and somewhat resembles the one with the permanent crack in it thanks to me)

(my face really did feel as if it were on fire when the head of the paper doll came off in my hand)
1960's Ft. Sumter, South Carolina probably taken by my Dad.