This post is lovingly dedicated to my husband and to my son who is currently stationed in Afghanistan. When they are finished reading this they will wonder why it needed to be written at all and they will love me still and more because they are the men they are, but they will allow that because I think it needs to be written then so be it and they will tolerate me as they always have and that is one of the main reasons why I love them so much.
Dear sweet Marianna,http://daughteroftheking85, your post about beauty has prompted more than you can know. You have brought about the healing of scars, or should I say you have completed the healing of scars and brought about an understanding of the "why" of the process. A little background here would help, and background on two fronts.
Firstly, I used to be a relatively intelligent person. I am, I think widely read on many topics. That is, I think, where my son, PG OBrien, gets his voracious appetite for books. I too was, and am still to a degree, that way. Anything that I could get my hands on I read. In our early years of marriage it used to frustrate my husband and I think to a little degree, make him jealous. He cannot read much without falling asleep because he has narcolepsy, untreated at the time. I would often neglect my household duties to finish a book back then. Never my children or husband but the house and laundry very much. Now the reading didn't just stop inside my head. I thought about what I read and what I read came out in my speach and later in my teaching of my children. I think that their education was in maybe a small way enhanced by my extensive reading.
Also, sewing was almost a vice with me. I would get up early in the morning to work on a project when I had one going and work late into the night after everyone was asleep. When the children were young I would even sew with the baby on my lap. Now I didn't have to invent things to sew. I sewed for other people. I took in paying jobs whenever I could so I was not spending money that didn't need to be spent on frivolous projects. I made the childrens clothing and I learned to make quilts so that I could make the bedding for the family. I taught all of my children to sew. (the boys as well) they are all accomplished with the sewing machine).
Here is where the scars come in. I was not responsible with the sewing. When I was given the order to rest when I was pregnant with my youngest daughter I sewed. Not little sitting quietly projects but large projects. I made two queen size quilts and worked on her baby quilt. I realized later that I should have been quieter with her but I kept convincing myself that sewing was restful. Later I went into labor with her 8weeks early and she only lived 2 days and then we lost her. Now I know that my sewing didn't kill her but it certainly didn't help. For the longest time I was unable to sew because I had convince myself that it was the reason that I had lost her. Scars were beginning.
Let us skip ahead. Three years ago we were fostering a lovely set of twin girls with the hope of adopting them into our family. The girls were napping and MK and Matthew and I were in another room sewing. We passed a lovely morning together checking the babys and sewing together. I occurs to me that the babys are taking a long nap this morning. So I go in to check them and to maybe wake them for their next feeding. To my horror, one would not wake, she was dead. No need to go into the details except to say that the ruling was SIDS. Not our fault. Nothing to do with the sewing project, but to a heart that is already scarred and not healed this is an additional scar.
Now, here is the question that you may ask; wait you do sew, so what is the problem. To my mind there are two types of sewing. To anyone who is an artist or who creates there is that which is utility, the making of things that require no skill or creativity or even repairing things or mending and then there is what I call real sewing; creating, using all my skill and talent to make someting that is pleasing to the eye, something that is unique and beautiful. That is what was impaired. I could mend. I could make a pair of fleece mittens or a hat or whip up an apron. None of these projects taxed anything in me. But ask me to make a quilt or a little girls dress. That was virtually impossible. I could even teach but when I handled the tools I was all thumbs.
One day last summer a neighbor asked me about sewing and revealed that my daughter had expressed frustration that she and I no longer enjoyed our "girl" days together sewing. That was a sad loss for me but I was powerless to get them back and even more powerless to explain why to MK. The neighbor challenged me to make something for the lost girls as a way of healing. She said something similar to what Marianna had said, that God would want me to create something beautiful to their memory to help me heal and get back the expression of the talent that He had given me. That I was standing in the way of the gift He had given me and sharing that gift with others. I remember the very words but they did not impact me until I had read Marianna's post.
Today I sat at my machine and I poured out all the creativity I possessed into finishing a pile of little outfits that I had purchased the material for and had even gone so far as to pin and cut out but then put away. All these years since both girls have died I have done that over and over again trying and trying to overcome these scars and I could not. I now have maybe two dozen little outfits to finish that I know now I can because I see that Stephanie's words are right. My talent may not be so large but it is what God made it to be. It is here to touch those in my little corner of the world. I have been doing a disservice to Him and to my daughters by letting my mind listen to the ugly words of saten convince me that I was the cause of their deaths. To quote my loving and dear husband "they went in Gods time and it was the perfect time for them". Whether I liked it or not.
Now is the time for the scars to heal.
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