Rhett Butler was never without a handkerchief when Scarlett needed one, because he was a classy guy. Having a ready hankie was the mark of a true gentleman.
Nate was a gentleman, too.
I can’t count the times I needed his hankie-help when we were away from home. Coffee spills, make-up gone awry, tears at a funeral or sticky fingers. The uses were endless. His hankie was usually out of his suit pocket before I’d looked up from my sudden need, and he never gave a thought to the fact that he might want it later himself and find it soiled by his wife.
I can remember watching my mother put a handkerchief in her purse each time she went out, noticing that my father had one, too. People of that generation didn’t use Kleenex with abandon like I do. They were “thinking green” well before it was the thing to do.
I also recall shopping with Mom to buy a bridal shower gift. She selected a handkerchief made of gauzy white linen fanned out in a square flat box and wrapped in tissue. The embroidered pink roses on one corner were matched by a pink edging all around. As a young girl I knew the bride would love it and wondered if she might even carry it on her wedding day.
When we were cleaning out Mom’s drawers after she died, she had quite a collection of beautiful hankies. But short of using them in an art project, we didn’t know what to do with them. Times had changed. Although I remember every elderly auntie tucking a handkerchief in her dress sleeve with the decorative part showing, today’s women were different. And Mom’s hankie supply went to Good Will.
I can see how hankies are wonderful for mopping up moisture — from eyes, noses, clothes, children’s faces and unnumbered other places. And life is fraught with messes that need this kind of attention. Although I’ve never owned my own hankie, I was delighted to be married to a handkerchief-carrying gentleman. I needed him, and I needed his hankies. Both helped me clean up many a mess.
Sometimes I think about the Lord and his expertise at cleaning up after us. Throughout the Bible he mopped up a variety of disasters, and he’s in the same business today, offering his services to those of us who keep messing up. And the best part about his cleaning is that it isn’t just surface work. What he offers goes deep into the heart and fixes up what cannot be touched with a hankie but is far more difficult to clean. It’s the buried soil of sin.
But the beauty of God’s mess-mopping is that once things have been cleaned up, he’s willing to let the past stay in the past. Although I don’t think God actually forgets anything, he does promise not to keep bringing up the messes we’ve made. They’re as good as forgotten.
I still remember quite a few of the wet clean-ups Nate’s hankies helped me with, and many of the handkerchiefs show stains to testify of their histories. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, Nate never brought these things up to me again either. Like Rhett Butler, he was just happy he could help.
” ‘Come now, let’s settle this,’ says the Lord. ‘Though your sins are like scarlet, I will make them as white as snow.’ “ (Isaiah 1:18a)
Out of habit, I still carry a man’s hankie in my purse, and one in by Bible. The supply came from Dad, and now from Jim. Small pkgs of Kleenix are available for the grandkids’ emergencies. As a child, I remember my Mom boiling the hankies in a big pot, before putting them in the ringer washing machine. I was in charge of ironing them, and stacking them in the dresser drawer. Some had a big initial in the corner, by the hem. Thanks for this memory, Margaret.
Jim carries a handkerchief. When our kids were little, it was an unwritten rule that all tears had to be dried with Daddy’s hankie – that works for the grandkids as well. He still is willing to lend it to me when I need it.
I remember my dad’s hankies, and have a couple pretty ones from my grandma. Got one as a high school graduation present but never used it. I should get it out and put it in my purse! You know how when you have Kleenex in a purse, it just ends up getting crumpled, shredded and then thrown out! A hankie would still be there ready when you need it! (I do think Marjorie’s mom’s idea of boiling them in a pot is a good idea though! The “gross” factor is kind of what has kept me from carrying a handkerchief!) You often come up with topics that jog interesting memories, Margaret. Thanks!
I’ve just started carrying a hankie again. It really is better than tissue in that it doesn’t get all wadded up and stuck like some gone astray paper mache project!
Hankies are very sentimental to me. My dad always had one on had to be borrowed in need. At his funeral I turned to my husband and said “Whose hankie will I borrow now.” I now carry one in my purse. When my Grammy (Eleanor Colby) died I took her lovely embroidered ones as I share her initials (Ellen Connolly). They make my happy to use them as a reminder of her.
oops “hand” “: )