Lessons Learned from Around the Sewing Machine

My sweet mom peaceful left this earth, and softly drifted to heaven on Feb. 28th.

The miracle that we prayed for since learning of her diagnosis on August 29, 2011, almost exactly 6 months, gently blew in, and carried her up. She now no longer has cancer, and she is at peace.

And I have the amazing gift to know that she is Heaven, and the she loved the Lord, and that she thanked Him for taking care of her every step of the way. What better gift.

The last 7 months have been consumed with spending as much time possible with my mom. The blog took a back seat, the girls blog has gone by the way side, I have to say, our big push to get to Costa Rica slowed way down.

Instead I spent the fall in a couple of rocking chairs, just me and my mom, our feet propped up; me with ice tea, and her an ensure. We spent the winter working puzzles around her kitchen table.

Those seasons of this journey, I will always treasure.

So here we are now.

Spring.

New life right, time for something new?


I am not sure how to do that yet, start up again.

I want to share a little about my mom tonight. . .

There is something that instantly makes me think of my mother.

It is a sewing machine.
I have learned that it was not that specific machine, but just when my mother was at it. When the machine is turned on the needle is going up and down, and when the material is being pierced, there is a smell, that is recognizable to me. I know that sounds crazy, but I smelled it every time she sewed.



I will miss that.

I took home economics in 7th grade with Mrs. Faulkner, and was named seametress and homeacher of the year, It is true, HOMEMAKER of the year, partly due to the fact that my handmade dress, impressed Mrs. Faulkner so much. My mom did the button holes for me on that dress. (Don't worry, Mrs. Faulkner knew, and I still got the reward.) My mom always did the button holes for me, and now I am so mad at myself, because I don't know how to do them.

Where I grew up, there is a huge fabric warehouse, called Mary Joes. That place has some strong memories for me. I absolutely love this place. I remember as a little girl looking at books and books of patterns, and then picking out the best fabric to go with it. My mom made most of our clothes when we were little, and even my dad's suites. Mary Joes is a place that can bring back so many memories of my mom, such a good place, maybe like a backyard basketball hoop, or the kitchen for others, but for me, I'll take Mary Joes.

After 7th grade, my sewing intrest continued. I learned how to cut the patterns out, pin them to the material, carefully cut them out, and then my mom and worked on the project together. I still have the Christmas wreath we did that year.

My mom made Maggi and Emma's bedding for their nursery. Again, with fabric lovingly picked out at Mary Joes. My mom would make dresses for me to wear on the mission's trips I took. She made the clown costumes I would wear, and then I would leave them for the missionaries. She even made some of the dresses I wore on my honeymoon.

During those first few months of my mom's illness, I dusted off the sewing machine and put it in my bedroom.



Mostly because I had a lot of free time, remember Dave and the girls are in Cali, but also becasue I wanted to keep my mom's mind active. She again taught me so much. We made several dresses for Maggi and Emma. We had fun going to Mary Joes again.


Now for some lessons that I learned around the sewing machine . . .

Choose your pattern first, that becomes your guide, start with something easy, and work your way up, gaining confidence and skill with each new project.

Have fun picking out your fabric! This is where your personality comes through, mix stripes and polka dots, pink and red, plaids and flowers, be bold or soft. . .

Be careful when cutting your fabric, small mistakes or uneven edges make the project much more difficult later, so take your time and be careful.

Read the directions and follow the steps. Too often I didn't think it was really necessary to add the stich around the entire skirt. . . not acceptable (recently I sewed an inside and outside together because I didn't read all the steps).

And lastly, and most importantly, Have a good seam ripper. UGH. I had no idea my mom was a perfectionist, she made me rip so many seams and start over. However it was good to know, that if something doesn't turn out quite right, no worries, start over!

And lastly enjoy your final product! Have fun and LIVE.

Well my mom taught me alot more in life, but in my heart the last 6 months, the time spend around the sewing maching, will be a lasting memory for me.

This Christmas my mom gave each girl a sewing basket, a pair of sissors, and a seam ripper. . . so hopefully I can share some lessons around the sewing machine with them.


Is that what you call a legacy? I think so. . .