all for him

Sew It Seams by Stephanie was born out of an idea and a desire. It was intended as a way to help offset my car payment, but really for some extra dollars once in a while. This morning I realized it should be for another purpose......

My son, Drew, is going off to seminary in the fall, to be educated and trained as a priest of the Diocese of Harrisburg. Nothing about this next chapter of the story of him surprises me. Since the moment of his birth he has been teaching me about life, coping, love, faith, admiration - everything that is truly important. As a third child, he was trundled off in many directions, often exactly at nap time. He had no trouble adapting these constant changes to his routine, more than any of his brothers ever did. As a toddler, he would occupy himself playing with Lego's and building the most interesting sculptures that were as delicate and fragile as they were intricate. He was the only one who could move or handle them; at anyone else's touch they would crumble. In preschool he developed an amazing eye and ability for drawing and painting, taking classes and winning awards through all his school years. In high school, he made the very difficult decision to drop art as a class to make room for some other subjects, but never gave up his sketchbook or pencils, winning an award at the Classics Festival with a painting he did for Latin. He prays. I never prayed in high school. (I spent my time at mass looking for boys my age because there weren't many!) His sense of humor and quirky taste shines through all he does, including his discussions and questions about bible stories, homilies, Life Nights, Edge lessons. His strength of character has helped me through the past year as much as the support from my therapist, spiritual director, friends in the know. I'm proud to know him, and humbled beyond words that God entrusted him to me, of all people. He wanted to be a farmer growing up, and at the beginning of this discernment would occasionally talk about living on a farm with an art studio school and a chapel. My mother sent Drew a card recently reminding him of this dream, saying that he will now be a farmer helping to raise animals with much less fur. [she put it differently, but I'm working from memory, and emotion.]

Last week, when Drew got his letter of acceptance from St Charles, a friend asked if I would now begin hosting spaghetti dinners to help fund his education. That's the moment it all became more real. Child support for Drew ends next week when he graduates from high school. Since February when I filled out the paperwork to terminate it, I've wondered what I might do to make up that difference, especially when he goes off to Philadelphia. This morning as I weeded, I discovered I'd been praying without realizing it when it occurred to me that Sew It Seams is really for Drew.

So many people have encouraged this endeavor in small to big ways. Shawna agreed to work on my marketing and has taken beautiful pictures of the items, even coming up with the name of the page. Ed encouraged my creative side by consistently telling me I have talent, and that I should capitalize on it. Jonathan, Henry, and Ellie shared the page almost the moment it went live. Heather keeps visiting and liking items. Elise tells me I can do anything - and that she loves that if I don't know how, I'm still willing to give it a go. And I remember the times my Dad complimented things I'd made, and especially the time he saw a monogram - SDT - and said, "Who is that?" When I made a set of bags for Ellie's graduation, Drew and Henry were my sounding board, and the first to really encourage the idea that finally came to be: showing my stuff to strangers.

And then today's prayer. Everything that is sold through Sew It Seams will go to Drew. Everything that hits the PayPal account (stephsewstoo@gmail.com) will be used for his time at seminary, from extra daily expenses to his suit and tie, cassock, surplice, transportation and tolls. In addition to the items in the album and on the page, I can do custom work, although prices may vary a bit. All the current items were made from savaged, extra, or otherwise 'found' textiles. Everything is one of a kind. And I do other stuff, too, not just sewing. In short, I sew, paint, create, and want to do it all to help my son.

If you would rather make a tax-deductible donation to help the Diocese of Harrisburg defray the cost of supporting all clergy in the diocese, you can donate here. While this will not go to Drew exclusively, it will help him directly in conjunction with his classmates and others. Questions about priestly formation and other vocations can be directed to the Office of Vocations.

Please pass this on and forward. This is a huge leap of faith for me. [more on that in another post] I have never been one to ask for help, and neither is Drew. His willingness to give of himself to the world is again humbling me, impressing me, an example to me. And, yes, there will undoubtedly be some spaghetti dinners and other events in the coming years. Along with lots of requests for prayer!

at the door

She stands at the door, poised to exit; her hand pressed to the wood, her torso twisted back in response to those who have last things to say. The star-studded darkness beckons her quietly, while gently those inside continue to offer all she's needed, always. And yet, it is not those closest to the door who speak and reach out, but those in the furthest corners of the room; their tender love rooting her to the spot on the threshold. Those nearby, with whom she spent the most time at the gathering are nonplussed, as if finished with her company, making her wonder if this lingering matters to them, annoys them, if they even notice she is so close to leaving, perhaps for good.

She recognizes the feeling in all its complicated layers. So long ago thinking that being disappeared would matter to no one. More recently, realizing that being replaced unceremoniously is a recurring theme in her life. Always staying in place because of the example she'd admired from childhood; wondering all this time - all her life, really - whether the promise was worth the effort. All the while knowing that it must be, and yet....

So she stands, talking,smiling, laughing over the heads of those nearest, knowing those on the edges are holding her, while torn and broken inside. Turning away would be so easy. Pushing the door open and stepping into the darkness. An argument in her very core: the darkness may be Darkness; the darkness may be the moments before sunrise and glorious Light. Her eyes fool her, as do her feelings. Her mind tells her the door may be locked from the outside; there is no return. Her heart tells her that even if that were true, those on the edges of the room would undoubtedly open if she knocked - if they can hear her, of if they can push their way past the oblivious ones nearer the door - those who are unaware of their role in this moment, despite the strength of their message.

She smiles and talks, laughing with those on the edges who, in their hearts truly know, and cry along with her; tears of sadness, hope, joy, love. Love. Love is on the edges of the room.

"The image is clear and sharp in your mind because it is the one that represents everything that has ever happened in your life." Again and again. Painfully true. She wonders about pushing through the door. About trust and faith. About steadfast Love. And friendship - true, deep, intimate friendship. And the nearness of God.