Sewing

My favorite hobby is sewing and over the years I have accumulated too much fabric. When I enter a fabric store it is like observing a child going into an upscale candy store---I want to touch, taste and smell it all. Remember how it feels to eat too much candy--the stomach begins to ache and you just want to throw it all up. That is how I began to feel recently looking at all that fabric in my project room. It has become a "stomach ache"..too much---so I have decided to throw it up and out. By the end of the year my fabric will become completed projects or will fit into one small area of my project room. Why I want to sew so often is also an issue....sometimes it is my escape..I don't want to feel or think about what is happening in my life. Those tough conversations or exposing myself to others is just too risky..been there, done that...just let me sew. So ridiculous when you hear yourself say these things...Jesus suffered...why would I think that suffering is not okay?

Harry-My Dad

My children never knew my dad, their grandfather. He died when they were babies. One time after lamenting that fact my sister said she was glad her children never knew him. Wow!--was all I could manage to utter. People really liked my Dad or really disliked him-apparently even his children. My extended family has always said I am the most like my Dad--ouch! We are/were too "black and white", too opinionated, too harsh, too loud--both without hope of changing until God gave us life in Jesus! That changed everything...

Big Mama

Most grandmothers are "nicknamed" by the first grandchild. Such was the case for Big Mama --my paternal grandmother. When I was a child, we lived next door to her on the family property. In stature, she was a "little" mama--only 4'10". Her hair was short, curly, and white as snow (sometimes with a tint of blue the first few days after her "beauty salon" appointment!). Imagine my surprise when she showed me a picture of herself as a young girl with hair that was long, straight, and black as coal. She was 1/16th "indian" (her words) and Godboldt was her maiden name. There are no stories written down about her childhood, nor do I remember her speaking much about her family. Her weekly routine was finely tuned like a musicians guitar. She woke very early, cleaned her house, ran her errands, ate lunch, took a nap every day in her hammock under the shade tree outside, watched her soap opera, played canasta with her sister on the front porch, made dinner, watched the news and went to bed--early! During the summer we helped her shell "conk" peas by the thousands-and watched her can vegetables for the coming year. She was frugal, adored the local Methodist choir (she sang alto); watched baseball while eating cheese puffs and worshiped Lawrence Welk and his Saturday night entourage. Big Mama would actually shush! you if she heard any noise coming from you during that show. I loved her--I'm not sure she was actually interested in me--but I was grandchild #8 and she was kind and that was just life. She died in 1992 when she was 92. I still miss her!