I am not too fond of sewing denim. It is thick; when it is doubled up--such as one needs to do when sewing it--it has this tendency to get caught in my machine or break the needle if I am not careful. Sometimes it gets caught and breaks the needle, anyway, even if I am careful. I am not a super skillful seamstress. I am what might be kindly called “competent.” I prefer things with straight seams and light fabrics and a minimum of fuss. In my teen years, I used to love to experiment with making dolls, toys, and things like that; but now i have enough necessary sewing that unnecessary sewing doesn’t usually sound like fun. But, I also have enough basic sewing skills that i can’t justify not doing my own mending. And on this day, I had some mending that couldn’t be put off any longer.
I measured and pinned the material. Most of it wouldn’t be too bad, but there were four places where I needed to sew through a folded seam of denim. I did have a few extra needles, in case I heard the usual “snap” and felt the thread go slack.
The first item was finished quickly. I had started it a week or so earlier, but had gotten interrupted. Upon looking at it again, I realized it would be easier than I thought. And it was. The second item was the one that i expected the most trouble with, due to those stupid folded seams.
I carefully sewed past the pins, only stabbing myself a few times and not even enough to draw blood. So far, so good. I carefully sewed through the folded seams by hand-turning the wheel instead of letting the machine do the work. I got through all of them without breaking a needle, or any other annoying or disastrous mishaps. I lifted the pants from the machine and reached for the scissors to cut the threads. There was no bobbin thread to cut. Aaack. Bobbins are notorious for running out of thread at inconvenient times. On my machine, I cannot see the bobbin thread unless i open the compartment and lift the bobbin out--thereby making it difficult to see that how close the bobbin is to being empty--but neither is it possible to sew with only the thread from the needle. The stitches do not hold. When the bobbin runs out of thread, the only thing to do is to refill it, go back to where it ran out, and re-stitch.
Now when did that run out? I started examining the stitches I had just put in. Probably I would have to go back and re-sew at least part of what i had just finished--and Murphy’s law would dictate that I would probably need to go back over at least one or two of those troublesome seams.
I looked closer. The stitches were exactly where they were supposed to be, right down to the tacking at the end, that i put in to hold my sewing in place. I looked at the bobbin. It was definitely, completely, out of thread. But it had not run out until I had completely finished my sewing, even the tacking at the end.
I seemed to hear a still small voice...”remember, I do love you. I am watching over all the little details of life, right down to whether the bobbin thread will hold out or not.”
I had been so exhausted lately that I didn’t feel much love coming from anywhere. Deep down, I know that, whether they say it or not, my family loves me dearly. My friends do too. But I had been so tired lately that all I wanted to do was to hide from everyone. My kids’ baseball season is in full swing. Life has been revolving around games and practices. School is soon finished for the year, and with no dearth of field trips and other end-of-year activities. I was hoping that hubby’s changed work schedule would help lighten the load, this spring...but it didn’t. I am still doing most of the activities on my own, usually with my youngest in tow. His routine has been mostly thrown out the window, so he is more defiant and difficult than usual. I am exhausted with correcting socially inappropriate speech and behaviors, and from trying to keep him from injuring himself in such exhilarating pursuits as jumping from the tops of bleachers and throwing himself flat on the ground from a standing position, etc.
My kids have so little “normal” sometimes, because of their Daddy’s erratic work schedule, that I try to make it to as many of their games and school activities as possible. I want to do that much for them, at least.
And lately, probably partly due to the busyness and the need for extra vigilance with the young one, the terrible fears are setting in again--if I sent the older children to their games with someone else so that I could have a little breathing space, I would be almost frantic till they got home. So, while I have help available in the form of other parents--and also their grandparents--who could give them a ride to their games, it would not help my state of mind much. It is sometimes a necessity to find one child a ride with someone else, at times when they both have games at different places at the same times; but my relief is great when we are all safely together again. It is hard enough to send everyone to work or school right now. I know that they are fine--that school and work and activities are just part of life, and that my husband and children are in our Father’s care wherever they may be...but try telling that to my brain. Behavioral therapy is a nice idea, but there is a difference between giving someone the tools to deal with a difficulty and preventing the thing from happening. I have the tools to deal with panic attacks, but I still have to deal with them.
So has God abandoned me? Do I not have enough faith? Life, just plain old normal life, is still really hard right now. Shouldn’t I be full of peace and joy if my faith were real? If He were real?
But...I have not collapsed. He has given me strength and provision for each day, right down to the details of how much thread I needed for a sewing job I dreaded. I have the panic attacks, but in spite of them, a still, small voice still speaks peace to me. I am tired, but I can still laugh at some of my little guy’s speeches and antics (the socially acceptable, less dangerous ones). I can share my daughter’s pride when, the first night she got a chance to pitch in a game, she made the game-ending out by striking out the batter who said, “she’s just a girl, this will be easy.” (“His face was so red, Mom!“ she said gleefully...) I even enjoyed a field trip to Baltimore with my oldest son’s class, in spite of the fact that “everybody and their brother” decided that that would be a good day to take a bus trip to Fort McHenry and the Baltimore Aquarium. I was “field-tripped out” by the end of the day, but I had a good time. Even my 13 year old, almost-too-cool-for-enjoying-stuff-anymore, kid had a good time. He told me so. (Oh, the teen years. And this is just the beginning...) And Baltimore Aquarium’s gift shop carried, amongst all the expensive souvenir junk, real live Venus flytraps. My science junkie kid has been wanting one of these awesome plants for years and we couldn’t find them. So now there is a Venus flytrap sitting hungrily on the kitchen window sill, slowly digesting its latest fly. i can’t help but hear a still, small voice whispering love to me even in the finding of that Venus flytrap for my boy.
So, as I keep saying on this blog, He still has not failed me yet. Once again, I am finding that He gives me what I need at the exactly right time.
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