It is the time of year when we focus on blessings, gratitude, and gifts—both giving and receiving. I was the recipient of a glorious gift earlier this week. My parents’ neighbor, Helen, a widow who is 93 years young, has been on a “cleaning out” campaign for as long as I have known her. She is of the age where she does not want her worldly possessions to be haggled over at an estate auction. She prefers her nostalgic keepsakes—representative of so many treasured memories—to go to homes where they will be appreciated and adored, just as she has done.
My mother recently asked if I needed a new set of dishes. The answer to that question is always a resounding yes…despite what my full-to-bursting kitchen cabinets may say. Apparently, Helen offered to sell my mother a set of gorgeous English blue-and-white rose dishes, complete with dinner plates, a large platter and serving bowl, dessert plates, teacups and saucers, and even an adorable blue-and-white chicken for serving coffee creamer. My mother kindly offered to pay for the dishes—and then gifted them to me, her only daughter.
Of course, Helen—dear, sweet, precious, stubborn-as-the-day-is-long Helen—flatly refused payment for the dishes. Both of her daughters live far away and have no desire to relocate their mother’s sentimental keepsakes to their own already full homes in other states. Helen thinks of my parents as her own children (she sometimes calls them her brother and sister, which cracks me up, given their significant age difference).
Helen wanted my mother to take the dishes. However, my mother inherited both her mother’s and grandmother’s dishes and has no room for a new set. She talked Helen into passing the cheerful English china along to me instead. Helen was delighted to know that someone would enjoy her precious dishes in much the same way she has for so many years.
When my mother delivered the dishes to my home, I marveled at the condition they are in. One would never guess they are nearly 60 years old. I lovingly ran my fingers across the porcelain scenes of blue and white garden flowers. I imagined the years of Christmases, Thanksgivings, family holidays, and everyday dinners shared by Helen, her husband, and their two daughters.
Dishes are more than just a means to hold the sustenance we require each day. Dishes tell a story. Their pale background and vividly painted scenes bring back so many nostalgic memories. When I eat from my grandmother’s dishes—now my mother’s—I am filled with visions of family meals gathered around a large dining table. Grandma’s moist turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, and all the other sides piled high upon each plate surrounding the family table.
I can nearly hear the laughter, political jokes, and family secrets shared over dessert on those quiet yet attentive dining dishes. I imagine the same history with Helen’s dainty dishes—her young daughters wondering what special occasion prompted their mother to get out the good china; her husband peering at a much younger Helen across the table as he sampled her latest recipe and gave her a romantic wink to silently show his approval.
With each dish, a family recipe—passed down for generations—finds its way into the heart and soul of a new generation. Although both sets of my grandparents have passed away, when my mother or aunt makes Grandma’s famed chess pie or uses my grandpa’s recipe for cranberry-raisin drop cookies, it feels as if, with each bite, I can sense the loving arms of those precious souls embracing me in a gentle hug.
Bless Helen for passing her dishes along to me. She could have sold them at an auction or on eBay. She likely could have made a pretty penny, given their traditional décor and surprisingly good condition. But that is not what Helen wanted for dishes so precious to her heart. That precious little neighbor-turned-family member wanted them to go to someone who would enjoy them and share them with future generations.
That is exactly what I intend to do.
Dearest Helen,
Your dishes will be cherished in my home. I will not reserve them for holidays or special occasions. I will serve my two sons from these plates daily, as dinnertime is often the only time we are together. Your dishes will hear the tales of each family member’s school or workday. They will, no doubt, catch our tears in life’s valleys and hold our smiles from those much-anticipated mountaintops.
Someday, I will pass these dishes along to my sons’ wives, in hopes they will treat them with the same gentle grace you did, dear Helen—and that you have so beautifully entrusted me to continue.
What a joy it is to share with others the joy we have experienced in this life. As Helen’s hard work and loyal discipline in cleaning her home continue for as long as she is with us, I hope she knows how deeply her kindness and generous spirit have touched my family.
With special keepsake dishes—or nostalgic treasures of any sort—we may not always have the physical presence of the gift giver, but the reminder of their happy memories and generous souls is never far from our hearts. Each time my family gathers around these dishes, lovingly known as “Helen’s dishes,” we will reserve a special spot for Helen—whether at our family table or distant in presence, but always with us in spirit.
by Lindsay Sledge 
by Jacqueline Miller 
by Amy Martin 
