Six months had been spent searching for the right handkerchiefs. The ones like I remembered from my growing up years. Learning to iron by pressing them into squares that would fit into pockets and purses. Pushing one up the sleeve of my wedding dress for something old- a handkerchief that belonged to my great grandmother, my namesake.

Each one was ironed in preparation for the retreat. Just like my mom had taught me so many years ago. And I prayed for the women who would receive them. Asking God to give them whatever they needed that weekend.

On a snowy blizzard weekend in the middle of April (hello Minnesota), we gave out packets wrapped in the handkerchiefs.

The thing is I just never know. I have ideas. SO MANY IDEAS. And sometimes they fly and sometimes they don’t. I love details. All the little details speak love to me. And I desperately wanted each woman to know that she is loved and valued.

Different women told me how it reminded them of their grandmothers. I saw some take the hankies and hold them to their cheeks, remembering perhaps someone they loved who carried a hankie similar to the one in heir hand.

One day I opened my email to find a message from Claudia, a woman who had attended the retreat, telling me a beautiful story about the handkerchief she had received. Not long after the retreat, the call came that her 101-year-old mother who lived in an assisted memory care home was in her last days. Traveling to her, she remembered the paper napkins that her mother would take from meals keeping them in one of her hands. So she brought along the handkerchief that reminded her of one her mother had once owned. When her mother saw the hankie being held out in front of her she grabbed it and held on tight. For four days she wouldn’t let it go until she took her final breath. As her life came to an end here on earth, she clung to love.

Tears fell down my cheeks as I read this email. Thinking of the all the hunting for the hankies, the ironing, the praying. And the other women on the retreat team who joined in by lovingly ironing them, creating the packets, presenting them as women came in the door. All the love poured into a hankie.

Evelyn Rome lived a long life filled with a century of events. Born 3 years before women were given the right to vote and one year before WW1 ended, she lived through another world war and assassinations and moon landings and the computer age. She is remembered as kind and undemanding. Three days before she passed away, she was telling her family, “I am fine,” not wanting to bother them. She is also remembered for her humor. A month earlier when her daughter hugged her, she asked her mom why her nose was so cold. She quickly retorted, “It’s because it isn’t in anybody’s business.”

I loved how Evelyn’s daughter, Claudia, ended the email: She joined Jesus and her husband on April 30, 2018.

The handkerchief would be displayed at her funeral.

One woman once upon a time held that handkerchief. I like to imagine of all the things she might have done with her life- parties, church, funerals, weddings, friend outings, family gatherings. Then we reclaimed it and washed and ironed and did all the things. Another woman held onto it as she passed into the presence of Jesus. It reminds me that we really all do belong to each other.