The Christmas Surprise
Christmas was approaching and Sarah knew there would be no money for gifts for her 6 daughters this year. Their father had been killed in the Creswell Colliery September 26, 1950. Since then Sarah had taken in mending and laundry to care for her family, but so many women had been left without a bread winner after the disaster that there was little work to go round. There was the Dodd family who had lost three sons at one time, or Colin Hemmingway who had been married only three weeks, or Kathleen Barker who lost her husband Frederick after having lost her first husband to another mining accident 17 years earlier. So in truth Sarah counted herself lucky, but even still, it was incredibly hard to watch her daughters grow up without their father and without all the myriad of things that his income could have provided for them.
But now, Christmas was coming and there was no money to buy any gifts, and barely enough to have a special meal. But Sarah was determined that the girls would have something. Anything. She knew it wouldn’t be one of the fancy dolls or toys the girls looked longingly at in the catalog for the department store that came this time of year.
Later that evening the girls were once again gathered around the catalog, cooing over the colored illustrations. Sarah knew that soon she’d need to use the paper from the catalog to stop the drafts coming under the widows and through the chimney, but she wasn’t yet ready to steal even more of the joy from the girl’s lives.
It was then that she heard Freda, the oldest, say to Corine “wouldn’t it be lovely to have a set of matching dresses like these?” as she peered at a photo of the Dionne quintuplets. The quintuplets, now 16, were still setting trends, and were featured in matching pink floral frocks. Absently Sarah thought it would be silly for anyone to actually buy those dresses, because the fabric looked just like the flour sacks that has been carried in Carson’s Dry goods a few months before. She heard Corine reply, “Oh I’d LOVE matching dresses”, and Sarah knew what she had to do.
The next week she knocked at every door in town. She began by bartering mending and laundering services, but once her neighbors heard what she had planned they gladly donated to her cause. Word got to Mr. Carson, and he too made a donation; one which resulted in the flour on his shelves being packaged in brown paper for a time rather than the brightly colored fabric that usually housed it.
Sarah spent the next 12 nights awake. She laundered and mended during the day and stayed up each night working until her fingers bled. When Gladys Hemingway, mother of mine disaster victim Colin, saw her red rimmed eyes and her unsteady walk on the morning of night twelve she asked her what on earth was wrong. When she heard what Sarah was working on, she enlisted the help of three other ladies, and they arrived at Sarah’s home that evening with tea, scones and willing capable hands. By morning the work was complete, and the four women were punch drunk from exhaustion and elation.
Christmas morning dawned cold and gray, and Freda knew that there would be no gifts from Father Christmas waiting for she and her five sisters. She was old enough to understand their situation, but the younger girls were not. She hated the thought of going downstairs and seeing their disappointment. Just then, she heard Lorenna, the youngest squeal with delight “OHHH so BEAuuuutiful”. Confused Freda looked out her window thinking perhaps it had snowed, and that had promoted the outburst from her sister. But no, the ground was bare. Then she heard her other sisters joining in with riotous giggles and shouts of glee, and one of them called up “Freda, come see!”.
When Freda entered the kitchen she saw her five sisters all dressed in matching brand new dresses, made from vividly colored floral fabric. Then she saw the sixth dress waiting on the kitchen table. She looked at her mother with wide eyes, and her mother answered her unspoken question with “Come see what Father Christmas has brought you”. Freda put on her dress, and it fit to perfection. She looked around her at her sisters, and back to her mother and said “as beautiful as those worn by the Dionne quints, plus one. Thank you”.
Sarah’s eyes filled with tears as she watched her girls joy over the flour sack dresses. Sarah now knew that she was a single mother, but she wasn’t alone. She was part of a community; a community that had come together to support her this Christmas, and one that would continue to love and care for her and her daughters for years to come. United by tragedy, but bound by love.
Christmas was approaching and Sarah knew there would be no money for gifts for her 6 daughters this year. Their father had been killed in the Creswell Colliery September 26, 1950. Since then Sarah had taken in mending and laundry to care for her family, but so many women had been left without a bread winner after the disaster that there was little work to go round. There was the Dodd family who had lost three sons at one time, or Colin Hemmingway who had been married only three weeks, or Kathleen Barker who lost her husband Frederick after having lost her first husband to another mining accident 17 years earlier. So in truth Sarah counted herself lucky, but even still, it was incredibly hard to watch her daughters grow up without their father and without all the myriad of things that his income could have provided for them.
But now, Christmas was coming and there was no money to buy any gifts, and barely enough to have a special meal. But Sarah was determined that the girls would have something. Anything. She knew it wouldn’t be one of the fancy dolls or toys the girls looked longingly at in the catalog for the department store that came this time of year.
Later that evening the girls were once again gathered around the catalog, cooing over the colored illustrations. Sarah knew that soon she’d need to use the paper from the catalog to stop the drafts coming under the widows and through the chimney, but she wasn’t yet ready to steal even more of the joy from the girl’s lives.
It was then that she heard Freda, the oldest, say to Corine “wouldn’t it be lovely to have a set of matching dresses like these?” as she peered at a photo of the Dionne quintuplets. The quintuplets, now 16, were still setting trends, and were featured in matching pink floral frocks. Absently Sarah thought it would be silly for anyone to actually buy those dresses, because the fabric looked just like the flour sacks that has been carried in Carson’s Dry goods a few months before. She heard Corine reply, “Oh I’d LOVE matching dresses”, and Sarah knew what she had to do.
The next week she knocked at every door in town. She began by bartering mending and laundering services, but once her neighbors heard what she had planned they gladly donated to her cause. Word got to Mr. Carson, and he too made a donation; one which resulted in the flour on his shelves being packaged in brown paper for a time rather than the brightly colored fabric that usually housed it.
Sarah spent the next 12 nights awake. She laundered and mended during the day and stayed up each night working until her fingers bled. When Gladys Hemingway, mother of mine disaster victim Colin, saw her red rimmed eyes and her unsteady walk on the morning of night twelve she asked her what on earth was wrong. When she heard what Sarah was working on, she enlisted the help of three other ladies, and they arrived at Sarah’s home that evening with tea, scones and willing capable hands. By morning the work was complete, and the four women were punch drunk from exhaustion and elation.
Christmas morning dawned cold and gray, and Freda knew that there would be no gifts from Father Christmas waiting for she and her five sisters. She was old enough to understand their situation, but the younger girls were not. She hated the thought of going downstairs and seeing their disappointment. Just then, she heard Lorenna, the youngest squeal with delight “OHHH so BEAuuuutiful”. Confused Freda looked out her window thinking perhaps it had snowed, and that had promoted the outburst from her sister. But no, the ground was bare. Then she heard her other sisters joining in with riotous giggles and shouts of glee, and one of them called up “Freda, come see!”.
When Freda entered the kitchen she saw her five sisters all dressed in matching brand new dresses, made from vividly colored floral fabric. Then she saw the sixth dress waiting on the kitchen table. She looked at her mother with wide eyes, and her mother answered her unspoken question with “Come see what Father Christmas has brought you”. Freda put on her dress, and it fit to perfection. She looked around her at her sisters, and back to her mother and said “as beautiful as those worn by the Dionne quints, plus one. Thank you”.
Sarah’s eyes filled with tears as she watched her girls joy over the flour sack dresses. Sarah now knew that she was a single mother, but she wasn’t alone. She was part of a community; a community that had come together to support her this Christmas, and one that would continue to love and care for her and her daughters for years to come. United by tragedy, but bound by love.
Christmas was approaching and Sarah knew there would be no money for gifts for her 6 daughters this year. Their father had been killed in the Creswell Colliery September 26, 1950. Since then Sarah had taken in mending and laundry to care for her family, but so many women had been left without a bread winner after the disaster that there was little work to go round. There was the Dodd family who had lost three sons at one time, or Colin Hemmingway who had been married only three weeks, or Kathleen Barker who lost her husband Frederick after having lost her first husband to another mining accident 17 years earlier. So in truth Sarah counted herself lucky, but even still, it was incredibly hard to watch her daughters grow up without their father and without all the myriad of things that his income could have provided for them.
But now, Christmas was coming and there was no money to buy any gifts, and barely enough to have a special meal. But Sarah was determined that the girls would have something. Anything. She knew it wouldn’t be one of the fancy dolls or toys the girls looked longingly at in the catalog for the department store that came this time of year.
Later that evening the girls were once again gathered around the catalog, cooing over the colored illustrations. Sarah knew that soon she’d need to use the paper from the catalog to stop the drafts coming under the widows and through the chimney, but she wasn’t yet ready to steal even more of the joy from the girl’s lives.
It was then that she heard Freda, the oldest, say to Corine “wouldn’t it be lovely to have a set of matching dresses like these?” as she peered at a photo of the Dionne quintuplets. The quintuplets, now 16, were still setting trends, and were featured in matching pink floral frocks. Absently Sarah thought it would be silly for anyone to actually buy those dresses, because the fabric looked just like the flour sacks that has been carried in Carson’s Dry goods a few months before. She heard Corine reply, “Oh I’d LOVE matching dresses”, and Sarah knew what she had to do.
The next week she knocked at every door in town. She began by bartering mending and laundering services, but once her neighbors heard what she had planned they gladly donated to her cause. Word got to Mr. Carson, and he too made a donation; one which resulted in the flour on his shelves being packaged in brown paper for a time rather than the brightly colored fabric that usually housed it.
Sarah spent the next 12 nights awake. She laundered and mended during the day and stayed up each night working until her fingers bled. When Gladys Hemingway, mother of mine disaster victim Colin, saw her red rimmed eyes and her unsteady walk on the morning of night twelve she asked her what on earth was wrong. When she heard what Sarah was working on, she enlisted the help of three other ladies, and they arrived at Sarah’s home that evening with tea, scones and willing capable hands. By morning the work was complete, and the four women were punch drunk from exhaustion and elation.
Christmas morning dawned cold and gray, and Freda knew that there would be no gifts from Father Christmas waiting for she and her five sisters. She was old enough to understand their situation, but the younger girls were not. She hated the thought of going downstairs and seeing their disappointment. Just then, she heard Lorenna, the youngest squeal with delight “OHHH so BEAuuuutiful”. Confused Freda looked out her window thinking perhaps it had snowed, and that had promoted the outburst from her sister. But no, the ground was bare. Then she heard her other sisters joining in with riotous giggles and shouts of glee, and one of them called up “Freda, come see!”.
When Freda entered the kitchen she saw her five sisters all dressed in matching brand new dresses, made from vividly colored floral fabric. Then she saw the sixth dress waiting on the kitchen table. She looked at her mother with wide eyes, and her mother answered her unspoken question with “Come see what Father Christmas has brought you”. Freda put on her dress, and it fit to perfection. She looked around her at her sisters, and back to her mother and said “as beautiful as those worn by the Dionne quints, plus one. Thank you”.
Sarah’s eyes filled with tears as she watched her girls joy over the flour sack dresses. Sarah now knew that she was a single mother, but she wasn’t alone. She was part of a community; a community that had come together to support her this Christmas, and one that would continue to love and care for her and her daughters for years to come. United by tragedy, but bound by love.
This charming pull over is fashioned from a hand pieced flour sack tablecloth. 100% handmade by the artist. Tablecloth sourced in Arkansas
Measurement: Bust up to 40” Waist up to 40” Garment is gathered and belted so can be worn by a smaller size than listed
Care Instructions and General Information: This one of a kind blouse is fashioned from a quilt top that is approximately 70 years old. It should be hand washed and laid flat to dry. Ironing on high with starch will preserve crispness. Due to the age there may be minor discolorations or areas of wear commiserate with age. This is normal and to be considered as part of the beauty of the garment
No returns or exchanges due ot the one of a kind nature of the items