A few years ago my Grandma asked me to fix a strand of pearls that had belonged to her sister. Her sister had passed away a few years earlier and my Grandma inherited the pearls. They were hand tied and I was not familiar with the technique, but I told her I would try. I do a lot of beading and so I tried to string them together on one strand of wire. It didn't work because the holes were too little and delicate. So I put them in a Ziploc and put them away in the bead closet.
Everytime I would see her she would inquire about the pearls. I kept telling her I would get it done and then I didn't. Finally she asked my mother (so that she wouldn't hurt my feelings) if she could get the pearls back and have them done perhaps by someone that had time. She was not offended or mad at all, just wanted her pearls so she could enjoy them. She always dressed so elegantly and very much like a lady.
It was just before Christmas that year and so I signed up for a class and vowed to fix her pearls. I cancelled the class several times. Finally I made myself go so I would have the pearls ready by Christmas. I would present them as a gift to her. She had originally wanted to pay me for the job.
It is really hard to hand string pearls with tiny needles and silk string. Tying the knots in between was tedious. My fingers hurt. I had to go back two times to finish. But I did it. She was thrilled to get her pearls back for Christmas that year and I learned a new skill. A skill that I have not even wanted to attempt since. She still tried to pay me, but was a gracious receiver and took them without a payment being made.
I patted myself on the back for a job well done. Tonight I patted my Grandma's back for a job well done. She kissed my Grandpa tonight instead of me. And I will wear the pearls to her funeral next week.