fibers and focus

Today is a stitching day. I'll be spending it at my sewing machine and ironing board, focusing on straight and even lines of thread. This act of focus often allows me to let my mind wander, a form of hypnosis, I suppose. As I link the pieces of fabric together, I also begin to stitch together memories, questions, dreams. Today I have some special prayers to meditate on, and while I sew, I'll offer them up.

With my sewing project, I know the end result, my aim. I don't know entirely what I'm seeking as I pray. Sometimes that's why I sew or knit when I have questions or when I talk to God. It's like those helpful parenting articles I used to read (in my mother's magazines as a teenager myself, actually) that suggested talking to kids about "tough topics" while driving in the car. There is both a level of distraction in not having to be face-to-face, and a level of captivity in sitting in a moving vehicle. When I work a project while I pray, I'm a little trapped by the scope, a little distracted in my focus on something else.

That's not to say I don't pray face-to-face. Or that I don't ever focus exclusively on the One to whom I'm conversing. Just that today, with the needs I have - both in my heart and in Christmas preparation - I am grateful that the Lord and I can work side by side today. That I can have time with Him always. And that we both know that I will, at some point today (when my alarm goes off) I will simply sit at His feet.

to you, from me

For the past 18 years, I have been sewing pajamas for my family for Christmas. As the family has grown, both in number and in size, this endeavor has grown as well. Exponentially, it sometimes seems! Yet, I can't really imagine Christmas without slipping into new pajamas on Christmas Eve. One year, Mom was living with us, and I surprised her with a nightgown, too. For years, we had opened presents in the morning, ate breakfast, packed up the car, and headed up to Mom and Dad's for a few days. When the boys were small, it was a great way to keep them from getting tired of their new toys before school even started again. After a while, it just came to be the best way to enjoy their break, celebrating Christmas, showing off new pajamas, swimming in their pool. And the sitting and visiting. Oh, how I miss the sitting and visiting--sometimes wearing those new pajamas right up until tea-time!

There have been years when I just couldn't get myself motivated to make them, until I realized just how therapeutic it was for me to sit at my sewing machine, candle lit, music on, one pile shrinking while another grew beside me. There have been years when we just weren't sure we could afford the fabric (sewing is not the frugal habit it once was--it seems to have become a 'boutique art' and the component costs have risen accordingly), even with coupons and sales. One year, I even made one pair out of old sheets. Somehow, though, we've squeaked by with the purchase during lean times, and even when time has been tight, it's all worked out.

Two years ago, we decided to try a ski trip with Guy's brother and family. I enlisted my sister-in-love's mother to get sizes for me so that I could surprise them pajamas of their own. Every time we get together, we get a Cousin Picture, and that one was particularly endearing. The looks on their faces, the snuggly warmth of a perfect holiday (despite a blizzard, and being so sick I couldn't get out of bed for 2 days!), begun with a bag of flannel and fleece.

Last year, Guy's sister's family joined us the day after Christmas, and I added another 4 pairs to my already humongous pile! What joy! What fun! And what a wonderful feeling to know that they had a gift from my heart--from all our hearts, when everyone's help with dinner and chores are factored in. With each stitch, I'm reminded of the blessings my family are to me.

This year, for the first time in all my pajama-making history, I'm working full-time. Still, I'm determined to continue our tradition. Time is tight; I have to make good use of each minute I have available, so I'm starting with the boys. Then Guy. If there is still time in the next 4 weeks, I'll make myself a nightgown, too. Many times I've been told that I shouldn't leave myself for last; that I should make myself as important as anyone else in my family. It always makes me wonder what is missing from the life of anyone who would say that without considering the joy I experience, the peace I come to, creating for others. Especially for those I care about, with all my heart.

Throughout the year, I see my boys in their Christmas flannels or fleece, and my heart swells. Not with pride, but with appreciation that they want to wear them. The best gifts to give are those that mean something to the recipient, but I think the giving is enhanced by being invested in that gift. Tomorrow, I will again have a nose full of flannel lint, and a wastebasket full of scraps.

And I will feel thankful for the gifts of life, family, faith, and love.

made it myself

I hate clothes shopping. I can't stand the hunting. The trying on is bad, too, but every once in a while, the right stuff ends up in my arms and the trying on is bearable. Who am I trying to kid--that rarely happens. More often, I wind up pulling, grunting, squinting and twisting, only to ultimately wonder (often aloud) who the heck thought this piece of clothing would fit a human being! They look great on the hanger, or on the mannequin (who, by the way, was not wearing arms when she was put into that sling you call a 'top'). Of course, it is so easy to forget that the hanger is only two dimensional and the mannequin does not need to breathe.

Despite the frustrations of clothes shopping, I do happen to have some clothes that I actually wear--and like! I've found a couple of lines that work well with my body, and I've learned what fabrics like me and which do not. I'm still working on the whole "wardrobe" concept; I much prefer fun pieces, and end up with minimal "goes with"s. Oh, well, I make it work, and tend to feel pretty good in the process. Of course, some of that has to do with the key pieces that I have made myself and love to show off!

I used to downplay the articles of clothing I made. When someone would comment, I would respond politely, and skirt around the answer if they asked the origin. I don't know why I did this. I don't know if it was some level of insecurity, or a feeling that if it was homemade it was worth less. Or maybe I just didn't want to get involved in any discussion. At all. Nowadays, though, when I am complimented, I follow up my thanks with a cheerful, "I made it." Which is invariably followed by a "What? You made it?" I smile sweetly and nod. Just once.

It's not the noticing that has changed for me: it's the personal affirmation of my talents. The "I made it" does more for my emotional health than the original compliment, or the subsequent discussion. I don't tell about making my clothes for the "bond" it might create between me and the compliment maker, although it is nice to chat and take that little break from our days. Rather, talking about it is more to remind me that I am someone, something, other than what I do, day in and day out. I feel most alive and productive when I am sitting at my sewing table, focusing on guiding the fabric under the needle. When I am matching fabric with style of pattern to create something that says "ME!" I love that feeling of "me-ness" that comes from knitting a scarf or a wrap or socks that no one else will ever have.

Where once I was concerned how I would be regarded if people know that I make stuff, I now see the value in sharing that bit of myself with others. And I guess that's what it came down to: I was feeling guarded. Now I have, for various reasons, no reason to hide behind myself.

I love it!

Fannie Tang returns :)

"Stephanie, right?" As I walked in the door, for the second time, I was once again struck by the feeling of complete 'homeness' of the studio, and immediately felt warmly welcomed. "I'm Shani. I feel like I've met you before..." Indeed, as I mentioned, this was my second visit, but only my second--and the first had been in the late winter/early spring. It is now mid-August.

Through a mutual friend, I had heard about Shani and her studio, Flow Together Yoga Center, and the wonderful space it was to practice, learn and refine. Months later, Guy got me a Groupon for my birthday. I've only been the one time so far, but on that one visit, I so enjoyed myself; I pushed myself through the class, which was twice as long as my usual practice, with the gentle, yet sure guidance of Shani. During the class, she encouraged me to tent my hands on the floor, using my fingertips for balance and strength, rather than my flat palms. What a difference it has made! After the class, she told me my practice was beautiful, and I truly felt as though my body had returned to a placement it had been lacking--even though I had been practicing frequently.

Today I visited for a very different reason. Earlier in the week, Shani had posted on Flow Together's Facebook page a call to artists. The studio will be celebrating its one year anniversary, and they would like to add a 'heartmade' element to the retail space on consignment. On a whim, because making stuff is my therapy, I responded and asked if my eclectic selection would fit in with what she's looking for. I've sold my work in the past, with varying results and reactions, but have never found just the right fit. I take pride in my work, and do see it as art, although that statement has garnered some strange looks at times. It seems some see "art" and "craft" as dichotomous, and never the twain shall meet. So be it. I put my heart into what I make, sometimes using patterns, sometimes not, but the hardest part comes when I have thought about selling in the past.

Simply put, I get bored easily. I don't want to make 425 purses. But I do love to make them! Sometimes I like to knit, or make French message boards, or paint some wooden thing and transform it into a showpiece. My current impetus is to use up the scraps and freebies I have accumulated for the past 10-15 years. That's a lot of stuff. And I live in a house with Guy and our four boys. There are only so many things I can make! I love that I have the supplies on hand to have made birthday presents for two dear friends lately (and that I had the time that week!) because I know just how genuinely they appreciated what I could do just for them. Using my recycled and repurposed fabrics and notions may seem more challenging for strangers, but I have another way of thinking about it entirely. And Shani spoke it aloud today without even realizing it. Each person has something that will touch them. It may sound a little "out there," but if I really focus and breathe life into what I make, I will know. Anything that doesn't sell just hasn't found the right place, the right 'finder.'

That mutual friend has been interviewing for jobs, and is understandably frustrated. So many of her friends have commented on her status updates reminding her that the right position just hasn't come forth. She will land on her feet; she will find what seeks her. Her yoga practice will help, especially since she has the support of a remarkable instructor and friend like Shani. I'm looking forward to working with her, and to attending more classes at the studio: a home if ever I felt one. Namaste.