~and I owe it all to Maggie~

First of all, I'd like to say this from the "get go".

"I am pretty sure that if I would have had to make my living doing origami that my little children would have been pretty hungry.  The good Lord knew what He was doing (surprise, surprise) when my life was directed towards being a teacher."

I'm not an origami artist or for that matter, an artist in any sense of the traditional manner.  I don't paint pictures even though I surely love to change the color of the walls inside of our house from time to time.  My hands could never create a beautiful piece of pottery to "save me" but I do enjoying seeing and even sometimes purchasing the clay works of another.  There used to be this burning desire inside of me to make a quilt one day before I died but I have since decided it's not all that important either.  I enjoy seeing quilts and even own a few of my own and that seems to suffice.

But about this subject of origami.

When Mike and I went to visit his step-mom Margaret last year in April, the first thing I saw as I entered her home were all of the beautiful paintings that she had created.  They were everywhere in her house, brightening up the walls of each room.  I couldn't believe it.  I had never seen the likes of a woman who could turn a canvas into a piece of art like Maggie could.  She wasn't afraid of using a variety of colors or different mediums either.  Maggie placed colors side by side that I would have never thought would go well together but in her hands, they did. 

During our 3 day stay there I had the chance to ask Maggie many questions about how she got started being an artist and her very humble responses warmed my heart.  On the day before we had to leave to come home to the mountains, I saw a small basket sitting on a table in the living room.  Inside of the basket were the most unusual origami creations, small orbs that had been fashioned and woven together in a very unique way.  She told me about making them and asked  if I would like to learn to make one.  I eagerly jumped at that chance and so we sat down at the table and tried our hand at it while Mike worked out in the garage going through his father's things.

For two hours we were at it.  We almost got to the point of putting the pieces in place but she was having difficulty remembering how they all went together.  At lunch time we gave it up and I brought home the two little pieces that we could salvage.  Maggie offered for me to take home one that was already completed years ago but I declined.  Instead we made plans to try it once again when Mike and I returned in the fall.  

We never had the chance to meet again.  She was very ill and passed away on the first day of this year.  

At Maggie's house this past week I saw the basket of them again, right where we had put them that day in April of 2014.  It made me think of her and to remember the day that she tried to teach me the fine art of Japanese paper folding.  On the way home a few days back, I told Mike that I thought Maggie would like it if I would try once again to create one of those fascinating orbs.  So last night we sat down and put our hands to work in the process of folding one sheet of paper into a dozen different ways.  

We had picked up this "how to" manual at a local bookstore with hopes of finding the directions of how to make one just like she did.  The title is so very misleading because there really is nothing all that "easy" about doing it.  Well, at least for some of us.

Next to the books was a huge packet of origami paper but unfortunately it was for Christmas creations.  We went ahead to buy it because it was the only kind there for purchase.  After we got home and started making one, it occurred that we might be able to turn these things into Christmas ornaments.

And so it began.  I read the directions (probably not as in-depth as we should have because, well because I never do), chose a piece of paper and began to fold.  About ten folds into it, I hit a stumbling block and in my frustration I put the paper down and looked over at Mike.  Even though it had been a year since Maggie tried to teach me, I remembered well that this was the point at which I was in trouble before.  What had Maggie told me to do?  

Mike came over and we sat together while he figured out what in the heck it meant to "slowly push the center point out and squash fold it into place).  After 15 minutes of trying, a smile came to our faces as we saw finally how to do it.  Now that I think about it this morning, it's some akin to turning your clothes right side out before you throw them into the washer.  It just took another set of eyes and a person with a lot of patience (that'd be Mike) to figure it out.  

 Once we got to going, it became easier and easier.  Six "units" are needed to create one modular unit ball.  Finally we had 3 completed.

About half an hour later, all 6 were done and although I thought it would be impossible it was not.  The experience gave renewed credence to the old adage, "The impossible just takes a little longer."

After joining them together, a process that almost makes you have to stand on your head to complete, they turned into an orb much like the one that Maggie had made.

There are a couple of things that I have learned about Mike.  One of them is that he is patient beyond being patient and he is a very good sport.  Not every guy would be willing to sit down with his wife on a Saturday evening and learn how to fold paper but he was.

I have learned something from this all.  I am actually glad that I realized the true gift that Maggie was giving me that day last year as we sat at that table together.  The gift was not that I should take one of those beautiful balls she had made that day when we first met.  It was not even that I should take one of them when we were in California last week.  The gift she gave me was that of her time and presence, something that I will never have again.  

My gift was priceless.
And I owe it all to Maggie.

One of Maggie's creations~
Ours looked a little different but that's ok.  No two works of art should ever look the same.