Recently, we've had family members pass away. With that, some of their possessions were passed along to other family members. From Grandpa, I received a bevy of old photographs dating back to the 1800s. Grandma's belongings were cherry-picked by a greedy family member; even the simple dutch oven pot promised to me arrived only with one piece - the inner pot and lid were missing. This is okay, having part is a blessing. Besides, the universe has a way of making sure things even out in the end.
The pot (or cauldron) came across the prairie with my third-great grandmother and her children (including my great-great grandma). It was handed down to my great grandmother, then to her daughter where it sat unused on a hearth for over half-century. It is infused the energy and struggles of life as a settler in the center of our country. It emanates joy, hard work and the love of women generations before me; it has provided nourishment and hot water for my family dating back to the early 1800s. Yet despite no special markings, even amongst a thousand other cauldrons I could tell this is ours.
One small change that held enormous amounts of love, made the difference. A home that simply served me, the pets and friends and always felt comfortable, now emanates the love and joy of those before me. Knowing they are watchfully overseeing the use of their special cauldron, gives me that sense of peace or balance that comes only from something lovingly passed through the generations.