When I was a little girl, my Mom taught me to sew. I remember the cardboard sewing cards and the yarn that taught me how to stitch. As I grew older, she let me go with a real needle and thread using scraps from her sewing and quilting. I made doll clothes and doll blankets.
When I graduated to the sewing machine, I felt like such a grown up. I could sew seams, take in the legs of my pants (the stovepipe look was in) and do basic repairs.
Then life moved on. I didn’t sew much for a while, and then mostly a quick repair by hand. My machine, an old Montgomery Ward model from my grandmother, saw little use.
About thirty, I made a horrible realization. Most of the latest fashions at stores were not my taste. Okay, plain put, they were just ugly. Color. Cut. Fabric. Just…yuck. And my tall frame limited the selection further.
Hello again, Monty Ward…
I sewed a number of garments that year from pattern. I loved it! Everyone asked where I found my wardrobe, and were shocked that, “Wow, you really made that yourself?!” Everything fit right, and it gave me a real sense of accomplishment.
Despite the enjoyment I got from sewing, I put my machine aside when I started driving a truck over the road the next year. And I left it there when the babies were born.
There Monty sat, gathering dust in the corner.
This past winter, I got the whim to start sewing again. My daughter is hard to fit. Small for her age, what’s long enough in torso and leg is too large in the waist. A fit in the waist is too short everywhere else. And now a tween, she needs clothes that are more “sweet young lady,” and less “cute little baby.”
So…I sew. So much so, my darling husband got me a swanky new Singer sewing/embroidery machine for birthday/Christmas. (Thanks, Honey!)
It hasn’t been in the corner since. I’ve made three “re-dos,” repurposing adult slacks into skirt/vest sets. And made one button-up blouse from scratch, making the base pattern from one of her other blouses. Turned a pair of corduroy pants into a blazer (coordinates with two of the sets.) Made outfits for her gazillion Barbie dolls. And a denim purse was born from jeans my son outgrew. Okay, the purse was for me. Still…
Ever realize that you’ve put something you love to the side? That you’ve unintentionally pushed something that brings you joy into the corner? Let it collect dust, until it falls into the forgotten realm of used-to-be?
Our spiritual lives can fall into the corner, too. I’ve been guilty of putting off regular Bible reading (despite the challenge schedules I printed off.) And have at times gone from seeking to God several times a day in prayer just for the closeness it brings, to going long stretches without even thinking about prayer. One missed Sunday service can stretch into several, until not attending is the habit.
But when I seek Him, guilty-hearted in my neglect, He is there. And the rush of joy that fills me astounds me. Makes me wonder how could I have ever put my relationship with God in the corner to gather dust.
I’m not a perfect seamstress. I make plenty of errors. And certainly I’m not a perfect Christian, for such a thing doesn’t exist. But I try. And hopefully, I get a little better each day.
May your seams be straight, and your pattern be true. God bless.