When I was eight years old I watched in awe the neat, clean stitching appear from the back of the sewing machine. My mother was a master stitcher. Staring determinedly at a mis-matched pile of fabric, she’d pull some of this, some of that, push it through the machine, and voila! out would pop a purse, or a wallet, or a dress, or a robe. Longingly, I begged her to teach me how to sew. Although she had eight other children and precious little time, she patiently demonstrated how to cut, match, pin, and carefully stitch together my first pillow. A shirt was next. Then more pillows! After I learned to read a pattern, there was no stopping me. I had acquired a skill that I’d fall back on for the rest of my life; because my mom had taken the time to show me how to do it instead of saying, “not right now”.
“Not right now” is exactly what I’ve been telling my daughter for the past year whenever she asks me to teach her how to sew. It’s never convenient, I’m always afraid she’ll step on the pin cushion (another story -remind me to tell it), stab herself with scissors, or just not listen to me. Last week, I stopped making excuses. Abigail amazed me! She listened, she was careful when she was pinning, she didn’t poke herself with scissors, and she used the sewing machine with respect. Over the next few years, I’m excited to watch what she creates, and it gives me a warm, squishy feeling inside to know that we share this skill. And I truly understand how my mom felt when she saw my first finished pillow. Proud beyond words.
