Buttons, Spools and Bobbins - the Unedited Verson

My dad taught me many things...  
like how to read, how to tie my shoes with bunny ears, and how to drive a stick shift.  
Great, useful and wonderful things.

But dad did not teach me  how to cook or how to sew.

Although a man of many, many accomplishments, these skills had somehow managed to escape his radar.

So I was often in awe of the other wives and mothers who seemed so handy in these areas.  Homemade this and handmade that left me feeling inadequate as a woman.  I could offer little more than spaghetti sauce from a jar and the occasional stab at a school costume, which typically resulted in screaming and kicking children.  I needed help.

Once, I did attempt to sew something.  I was expecting my third child, Maddisson Brooke, and I decided it would be a wonderful time to use those nesting hormones and make myself some maternity clothes.  So, I asked for a sewing machine at Christmas and set off to buy a pattern and fabric.  Just being in that department was a thrill!

The excitement continued as I pulled the machine from the box and set off to figuring out each button, spool and bobbin.  My imagination was full of the gorgeous garments I would be creating, not just for me, but for the entire family.  This was going to be fun!

Steadily, with the determination of Noah building the ark, I began my work.  I laid out the pattern and I pinned the fabric and worked all through the days and long into the nights.  It was more than a maternity shirt.  It was a badge of honor.  It was proof that I could pass a home-ec course.  It was my initiation into the exclusive club of Suzie Homemakers, a group that had never even considered me as a possible candidate.

 I put those awful coffee- can- wrapped- in- construction- paper- with- a- sweat- suit-and- attached- sock- tail-  that was supposed to look just like the other kids "Cat in the Hat" costume behind me as I pushed that pedal and seamed my way into the fashion world.  Look out!  Here I come!

The big day finally came, and I was so excited that I gathered everyone to sit and wait for the big reveal.  I ran upstairs and gently slipped the gorgeous white blouse over my head.  Yes, I will admit the shape was somewhat tent-like, but it was maternity, right?  Then I began to extend my arms into the sleeves...  but they wouldn't go.  I readjusted and tried again...  and slowly, but surely, like a teenaged girl putting on jeans for a Saturday night, I managed to push my hands through to the end. 

It was on.

I couldn't move my arms, but it was on.

I wish I could draw you a picture, but you will simply have to imagine the look of pride and accomplishment that was upon my face as I waddled into the living room.  Never has there been a more proud marshmallow.  Truly, I had done something.  And the looks on their faces were even more precious.

I sold the machine and bought new shoes.

Fast-forward to the present and you will see a gorgeous new sewing machine sitting right here beside me as I type. My husband and I stumbled across it on a far back corner of a store here in town and that sweet, naive man bought it for me.  God love him!  He even brought it home, watched the DVDs and set it up for me.  And then he said he, "I wonder what you will make first?"


Hmph.  Me too....

So, with a little less pep in my step, I went off to the craft store and purchased a variety of lovely little fabrics that would somehow, someday, become a new creation.
That stack of fabrics is sitting right here beside me as I type.
It is too much!  I love those fabrics.  They are each wonderful and unique and full of such potential,  yet I can't decide what to make of them.  I just keep looking at them and wondering, what are you? 

I think God feels that way with me sometimes.  With all of us.  We are each wonderful and unique and full of such potential...  but we don't always recognize who and what we are in His eyes.  I personally feel more like the triangle shaped maternity shirt with arms that don't quite move right than a beautiful garment.  But His handiwork is there to be seen.  I am, without a doubt, quilted together with all kinds of wonderful experiences and heartaches and hopes and skills.  I am not a one-size-fits-all, that's for sure!  But do not count me out yet.  I am made with purpose and with care and I fit just right where I belong.

My youngest daughter, Charlee Kate, completely unaware of any prior sewing offenses I may have been guilty of with her older siblings, asked me to sew her an Easter hat for a school party.  She said, "I wonder what it will be like?"

Hmph.  Me too...

But we worked together and let those around us who were wise and more experienced guide us a bit.  Before we knew it, we had a pink and yellow hat.  A real hat!  It fit on her head and everything!  I was so excited, I went on to also make her a pink and yellow dress and a pink and yellow pair of pants to wear with it.  And, again, I had a kicking and screaming child.  It was so sweet.  Just like the old times!
Still, I don't yet know what will become of my fabrics.  And I don't yet know what will become of me.  All I know is that we are all a work in progress and that even if the seams aren't straight,we are made beautiful and with purpose by a God who loves us. 

Blessings!

“He has made everything beautiful in its time.

He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom it.” 
(Ecclesiastes 3:11)