What just happened to me is so amazing... I can't even...
I'm making dolls for the darlings.
So I'm measuring, measuring, cutting, sewing, cutting, pressing, sewing...
I have a pile of fabric, fastidiously measured and cut into circles with 14" diameters. Some pressed, some not, some waiting to have the hems marked, etc.
My fingers hurt, I'm forced to work when the baby is asleep, and no one is looking and in a place where it's flat and safe for an iron. So pretty much 10 minutes here, 10 there. It can be frustrating.
I'm reaching for the fabric that will be my niece Katie's doll's circle skirt. I'm thinking, "Ugh it's flannel, it's already fraying. I'm going to have to add water to the iron to press it..." Not that much more work but daunting in the face of an already long to-do list and limited time.
I'm trying to add special elements to everyone's doll and outfits but in this moment I was tempted to cut the corner. Just get it pressed and hem it and let that be enough. Katie's young, she won't notice if I don't further embellish hers and it will still be special... excuse, excuse...
But no. No cutting corners. Cut corners in sewing get punished and if this is going to be an act driven by love, I needed to focus on love, not time damnit.
So I go back to the scrapbox. I need something purple. The options are limited but I know that there is fabric leftover from when my grandma made us Goodridge girls little throw pillows with our names embroidered on them. My sister had salvaged the fabric from grandma's things after Mary Ann passed away.
I put my hand on it, resigned to my fate. Then I unfolded it and there it was. A perfect circle with a 14" diameter, the edges already pressed.
I was shocked. Shocked.
I ironed out the tiny wrinkle in the middle it had from being folded and now it only needed to be stitched to the flannel to create a pretty lining. The iron releasing the smell of my grandma's house.
This circle of fabric that didn't make it as a throw pillow for a granddaughter will make it as a skirt for a great granddaughter. I don't know if Grandma got frustrated at the time when she was working with this fabric, or if she was just practicing to insure that the final product was better. But it serves as an excellent reminder that God works all things together for our good.
Thank you God for your mercy. For Mary Ann as a grandma and for a perfect scrap of fabric.